#then by the next year we kind of just didn’t talk :>

[goose-books]

The Ghost of Christmas Past shows up and you’re like, “Ohhhhh for fuck’s sake,” but you’re in your childhood bedroom so it’s kind of on you. The ghost seems offended. She crosses her arms. She looks like you used to, with the pigtails.

“No way,” you say. “Don’t start.”

“I am the—”

“The Ghost of Christmas Past, I know, I know.” Because she looks like you, and it’s Christmas Eve, so what else. Your parents used to read you the story every year. Even when you were old enough to read on your own, it was better in your dad’s voice.

“You came home for your parents,” the ghost says, solemn. “It’s time to tell them.”

“No, like, ‘when you’re ready’?”

“You are ready,” she says, “or you wouldn’t have come back.”

Which is so stupid, because you weren’t on the moon, you were at college, and it’s only been two months of shots, you don’t even have a mustache. “Fucking leave me alone,” you say, so she does the ghost thing and takes you to a ten-years-ago Christmas. The living room. Your parents. Your fledgling self on the carpet with your stocking, the one you can’t look at anymore because when you were a baby your parents patiently hand-stitched the fucking name.

“Maybe they’ll make you a new one,” says the ghost.

“You don’t know that.” Bullshit ghost powers.

“You were happier back then. When they knew you.”

“Everyone was happier back then. It was, like, 2008.”

“There was a recession,” says the ghost.

“Shut up! Shut up!” You turn over in bed. For a second you expect to roll onto child-self-you curled up next to you. Probably crush the life out of her. You got good at that. It’s her bed, her room, pink covers, cat posters.

“This is so stupid, this Dickens thing,” you say. “I’m not even Christian anymore.”

“Tell your parents that second,” the ghost suggests.

“Oh my fucking God I’m not telling them anything can’t you go bother Jeff Bezos.”

“I’m just doing my job,” says the ghost, and vanishes.

#

The Ghost of Christmas Present has an acne problem. As soon as you open your eyes you say, “Oh my God,” and they say, “Hi,” and you say, “You better not be the fucking Ghost of Christmas Present,” and the Ghost of Christmas Present says, “I am.”

Which you knew.

“Why me?” you say, pink comforter bunched around your waist. “I didn’t do anything. Scrooge was mean to orphans.”

The Ghost of Christmas Present shrugs. “It’s the job.”

“Are you gonna show me my parents now?”

That makes them look kind of embarrassed.

“Well, don’t,” you say. If your parents are talking in the other room, huddled up conferencing with the lights off, you can’t hear it over the heater buzz. But you can guess what they’re saying: you went to school with a shitty pixie cut and worse eyeliner, and you came back with a real haircut and a permanent frown and a bunch of new friends you play sentence Twister to avoid pronouning. “I know they’re nice people, I got it. I’m just not ready.”

“It’s just—you’re kind of waiting for them to ask?” says the Ghost of Christmas Present. They scratch their face, where they have spectral sideburns coming in. “Your dad thinks you have a head cold. ‘Cause of your voice. But your mom’s starting to get it.”

You pull the covers over your head. “Cool, awesome, didn’t ask.”

“She isn’t going to ask,” the ghost says. “She wants you to tell her.”

You stick your middle finger out from underneath the covers. When you check, the room is empty again.

#

The Ghost of Christmas Future doesn’t say anything. Just looks at you. You look back. You probably have bedhead. You fixed your daytime wardrobe but your pajamas are still lacy and purple.

“How come you’re a man?” you say.

He says, “I think you know.”

“Fucking—go away.”

“I have something to show you first.”

“Are we going to the goddamn graveyard?”

He doesn’t say anything but then you’re in the goddamn graveyard. Together. Looking at your headstone. The dates are close enough together to make you kind of sick.

“They went with the full name,” you say.

The ghost nods.

“Not even the nickname. My nice gender neutral nickname.”

The ghost shrugs. You kind of want to throw something at him but you’re just looking at it now. Chiseled in marble. Immovable. What’s that thing bigots on the internet say, about someone digging up your jawbone two hundred years from now? You always wanted to think you wouldn’t care.

The Ghost of Christmas Future’s pretty quiet. This is the part where Scrooge goes full breakdown. Tears, begging, promises.

“I’m not gonna cry on you,” you say.

“Okay.”

So neutral. “Man, what do you want me to say?”

“Nothing,” says the ghost. “I think you’re there.”

You can’t stop looking at the headstone. “God fucking damnit shit. You promise they’ll be cool?”

“Nothing’s promised,” the ghost says. He gestures at the graveyard. “Except for this.”

“Awesome.” Cryptic cliche philosophical ghost bullshit. Yada yada. Death and taxes. Not with that name on your headstone, though. Not with that name on your tax forms, either.

You turn to tell him that and then you’re blinking in bed. There’s still one glow-in-the-dark star stuck to your ceiling where the glue never wore out. You put those up like ten years ago. Maybe longer. The light in the room says it’s morning. You swing your lacy-pajama legs over the side of the bed and go to ruin Christmas.

[mermervi]

a christmas secret

✎ If you knew your boyfriend turned out to be such an asshole, you wouldn't even look at him in the first place. You'd have called off the engagement, of course, but you chose to stay for the sake of someone who sweetened your days and that someone is none other than your fiancé's brother. Leon. So how challenging can a family Christmas gathering be?

cw: MDNI, shameless smut, p in v, cheatingz!, unprotected segs goes hard ngl, bre3ding mayhaps, family drama aka kennedy family is the new kardashians, not proofread, sorry, praise kink, stomach bulge!, finger!ng, fem! reader, MDNI

find this work on ao3!

For Leon, this Christmas is overly festive, too much of an extravaganza. He has always hated family gatherings and has always been the type of boy who would retreat to his room after grabbing his share of the dishes his mother cooked for the house guests. No girls to bring home for his parents, no serious talks with them at all, and the concept of marriage has always been a total can of worms. For him there was Ada and the many nights he shared with her, nights of “oh, yeah. We fuck each other, and we don’t put a name to it.” This was more than enough for him but nothing to last forever.  

Until one day the tide completely turned the night he happened to meet you. He was quite surprised when he heard that his little brother, the one he thought was nothing but a good-for-nothing, had finally met “the one” a year ago. Quite frankly, all Leon could think of was a body mass with every known sexual disease in the world collectively stored in his nuts and sperm. Yes, he was clearly not very fond of his brother.  

He did, though, at the request of his father and mother, show up at last year’s get-to-know-the-new-girl-in-law dinner.  

And that was the night he saw you for the first time. The truth of the matter is you were far out of his brother’s league, along with the girls from all over the States, but Leon could only see an incapable man next to a pretty girl like you. Still, for the sake of pretending to be the good brother, he did the laughing and ate the food cooked that night. He pulled off a good Kennedy act, the best version of Kennedy his father could muster. Whatever his brother was, Leon was the opposite, and his father couldn’t have asked for anything more. He didn’t care what exactly was going on between his sons. The Dad of the Year, absolutely.  

Nobody could blame the old Kennedy. Leon was alright. Whatever. The other boy, however, is the equivalent of a child who was supposed to be jettisoned from the beginning and who, despite the condoms and the pills, was still accidentally conceived one night. He’s the headache itself. The only problem is that he has been so fucking blind to see this kind of unpleasantness and discomfort he has created for years. The guy lives in his own fantasy world.  

How he found someone like you is a veiled story behind the scenes.  

Leon really wanted to ask, quite a few times, but something stopped him, and the subject remained like a chest of unspoken family secrets. It went as far as getting your engagement with his brother.  

It was only a summer night when Leon found you crying alone by the pool outside the house that the tables were turned. The mother of your tears: his moronic brother. But why? Because he will never understand you. Thinking that you might actually find true love now seemed like a rookie mistake to you. So you cried. For Leon, it was just sad. Who knows how many times he had to comfort and sometimes even hug his brother’s female friends?  

Oh, and of course there was also the part of providing the most important detail that his brother was missing. Fucking those pretty girls. Hugs and heart-to-heart talks always led to the same thing. You, like the other girls, had found yourself in the same trap—the trap you had willingly walked yourself into—on top of him on a night of poolside fucking in a lounge chair. Doesn’t that make Leon an asshole? Perhaps, but at least Leon’s the kind of guy who has a sense of reverence for the women he sleeps with, whereas his brother... Well, Leon can’t find the right words in English for that guy.  

No beating around the bush, Leon wants the same thing tonight. The sex. Your sex. Why would he come to this stupid Christmas dinner anyway? For you, that’s the answer. Couple that with the fact that his job has kept him away from you for a couple of weeks—from the scattered things in life he likes to do—and you’ve got a man who’s been feeling peckish for many weeks.  

“Come on, big boy. Jus’ have a bite to eat.”  

Leon’s brother’s soused tones interrupt the eye contact between you and Leon, the one that has been covertly lingering on and off. He’s a piece of shit. It’s scarcely seven, and already he’s drunk as a doornail.  

Like a demented child, he leans over the table and brings his fork to Leon’s mouth, making artificial train noises in midair.  

“Now, now, my boy. Show me your mouth. Honk hooooooonk! Toot toot!”  

Your beloved fiancé forces the fork into Leon’s lips, which are pressed together to smooth matters over despite the sour expression on Leon’s face, as if he had just bitten into a lemon, and he doesn’t do much to hide it.  

At this point in your life, what could be more embarrassing than witnessing your fiancé doing this in front of all his relatives? And that’s coming from you—someone who usually doesn’t give a shit about relatives.  

Mercifully, Leon’s father saves the day when he raises a full glass of wine to draw the attention of the guests at the table to him.  

“Here’s to my beautiful family and to many happy years with them. With you guys. I love you all.”  

A sweet harmonization prevails around the table courtesy of this man. At least the eyes are where they should be, on the table, on the food, on whatever the good things are. What of your eyes? They are hunting for certain shades of blue, and when they locate them, the same kind of serene smile sits on his lips as on yours.  

Why is it that you feel so safe around him, but so bare around his brother and his kin? He’s their blood, but he acts just the way you always need him to be.  

Blending into your vista and turning the picture upside down, a red face suddenly intervenes between you and Leon. As it always does.  

“Heyyy.” He orates garishly and kisses your cheek.  

That’s not serious. Why must he butt his nose into absolutely everything? Sometimes you just want to throw away the ring and give a basket, then spit in his face and run like hell.  

Apart from the striking blue gaze, far away from Leon’s gaze, your fiancé’s attention is focused on you. More precisely, down your cleavage, or even exactly at the low-cut level.  

“What?”  

“What what what?” He’s parroting you, yammering.  

“Stop drinking like a horse and quit clowning around.”  

“Why? Tits the size of my head—”  

“Why don’t you shut your mouth? There are kids around. Screw you.” You look askance at him, but all to no avail. Yes, everything happens out of the prying eyes of the relatives—except for one person (Leon!), you and your fiancé are bickering at the mouths of each other. An outsider would even make a compliment about your idealistic relationship, saying something like—what a romantic lovebird these two are."

“Ha. Nice.” Your lover almost burps with a bitter taste on his tongue. In your face. “Huh. How about making them new cousins?” And as if his sobriety wasn’t already bad enough, he, of course, dares to dare to think about anything that pertains to his dick. What an idiot. Like he can even fuck you. This guy has been dead for some time. The alcohol does that shit, he says, but he’s always been all thumbs, dick down.  

“Get lost. Seriously. I’m on my period, anyway.” You lie, and within a split second your fiancé responds with a horrified scowl that is woven across his face like a tapestry. Of course you’re engaged to a misogynist and a guy who’s allergic to the subject of menstruation.  

“Yuck. No way. ‘m going to go now.”  

“What? Where to?”  

He stands up heedlessly, scrambling up the chair with the back of his shoe as you pelt him with a barrage of follow-up questions.  

“Hey, guys! I’m outta here.”  

He waves to everyone like a famous singer at a concert hailing his fans from the stage.  

This fucking guy...  

The assembled folks watch in silence for a spell as your fiancé staggers along in a drunken swagger. Even Leon watches him, and he knew from the moment he received the invitation that he was going to be subjected to such a moonstruck stunt. More or less, he could have guessed that the main character would be his stupid, dickhead of a brother.  

You try to recover from this situation with a short ha! of laughter without even letting the situation escalate into a real problem. “He’s too busy. Even on New Year’s Eve. Got... a call... from work. Yeah. He did—God. What a man. He makes me so proud.”  

What a shock.

Leon’s holding his laughter like it’s a sneeze at your eye-watering performance. Turns out everyone in this house who has or is about to have the last name Kennedy is always obliged to deal with the chaos created by that mindless pain in the ass. Tonight was no different from any other disaster, and Leon knows you’re a real Kennedy now.

“Yes, indeed. He’s just recently qualified. The boy is quite overwhelmed with business.” Mrs. Kennedy, sitting next to Leon and across from her husband, is quick to gloss over her young son’s asinine mistakes. It’s hard not to admire her as she does so. It’s her aura that speaks, not her, and it’s at that particular minute that you decide that some of Leon’s facial features descend from her. Like mother, like son.  

The table stills after another parental rescue drill. Not a bad kind of night, you might say. The conversation circulates. You make the acquaintance of people who aren’t so black and white. Turns out the Kennedy bloodline isn’t all bad, sort of. American as apple pie, Italian as... pizza?  

All this talking, socializing, and blah blah blah goes right through your social battery. That’s enough people and new faces. It wouldn’t hurt to venture out into the garden and catch some air. Maybe light a cigarette. You never know.  

Excusing yourself from the throngs of people, you finally step out of the back door of the kitchen through the patio door leading to the backyard.

The bracing air from yesterday’s foot-deep snow is wafting sweetly across your face. The ground beneath your feet is still dewy, and the caked snow sticks to your soles. Too much on your mind to give a crap. That stupid boyfriend of yours is the culprit of it all. Easy.

Raising the joint in your hand, you roll a cigarette and cradle it between your lips. You dig in your pocket for the lighter you think is in your dress pocket, but no luck so far.

Within a scant few seconds, the gentle gusts of breeze blow into waves of bone-chilling cold and spray your skin under the thin fabric of your dress. Silly you are. It’s a recipe for disaster to be going out in such weather without even putting on a single jacket.

You’re kicking yourself from the inside.  

Luckily, the sliding door behind you flings to the side. It’s none other than your soon-to-be brother-in-law. Squinting at you in the twilight, as if he’s judging you. Yes, yes, yes, yes. What a way to be out in the cold, damn it. He most likely will lecture you. You know the drill.

“Is this the way to go out in this cold, sweetheart?”  

Called it!  

You just shrug your shoulders, and Leon lines up next to you. He looks at the cigarette between your lips with a bogus hint of titter. “You know these things will kill you.”

What a wiseass.

As you flick your lighter, he takes off his brown jacket, which you think is new and pretty. He looks good with it.

Unexpectedly, the gesture is a small token from his heart. He slides the jacket over your shoulders, and you notice the flashes of sparkles that fill his eyes. Tonight, especially after yesterday’s bellowing of flaky snow, there is a distinctive gale in his eyes under the arch of the constellations and the blue-gray moon—like two small globes of blue-sky moon.  

“You must really like staring at me.”  

This man is a dab hand at deflecting attention with a comment that will definitely ruin the whole moment. It must be a family thing, you decide.  

“No, I’m surprised. Look at you looking like such a show-off. You’ll catch cold.” Your voice is laughable and blurred from the cigarette between your lips.  

“Don’t even think about it.”  

Just as you’re about to take the jacket off you and return it to his arms, Leon holds you by the arm and then intercepts you. Doesn’t take you seconds to register that you have been missing his touch all along in your memory. It’s so distant yet so fresh.  

The stillness of the night falls between you, leaving a familiar glow inside your bones—white and aurelian. It’s all the same to Leon. Moments like these are potentially precarious, and it’s usually Leon who does something to diffuse the situation in those peak seconds of emotional overload. Practical wit.  

He takes the lighter from the palm of your hand and with a few flicks, ignites the cigarette’s stub. His free hand instinctively cups around the bluish, wavering flame. He watches and waits until you take a drag — notwithstanding the sharp, burning wallop searing through his palm. Worth it, he figures. The agony in his hand is only temporary, a demising singe. Yet the fire inside you? That’s something else, something you both share. You’re burning in your lungs. He’s burning in his hand. Unquestionably, with an esoteric surrender. 

“Thanks.” You exhale away from him. In his case, Leon fiddles idly with the same lighter. He looks contemplative.  

Must be an acquired connotation to that expression on his face. Sometimes you really wonder what on earth is going on in his head. You would have sacrificed your fiancé to cut open Leon’s head and find out what’s going on inside his head during such hush-hush intervals, really. It wouldn’t be half bad. The world would be rid of a piece of shit, and eventually, you would have peeled back the layers and understood who Leon Kennedy really was.  

You raise your brow at him and grill him while he snatches the fag he robbed from your lips. He takes a long draw. By heart he knows the taste of your lips, all paper-wrapped and kissed.  

“Whatcha got there? Cherry lip gloss?”  

“Yup.” You hum in approbation, and now you watch the heady vapors drifting from his lips, frost-kissed red as fresh grains in a pomegranate against the biting cold.  

What is clear is that you both crave to be with each other. Why, Anna wants Vronsky like Vronsky wants Anna, like Vronsky has that mad, demeritorious longing for Anna. And for Leon, you’re what they might label that weird thing inside him.

“Come with me to the greenhouse. Now.”  

“What? N-now? The surge in your speech ripples, either from the cold or sheer astonishment.

With the last puff, Leon throws the cigarette on the snow-carpeted ground and treads on the glowing ash with the sole of his shoe. The next thing you know—  

He grabs you by the wrist and drags you behind him to the glass vestibule of his mother’s one and only conservatory. All this silence, all these initiatives are the signs that he has a master plot in his head, and you’re just getting the hang of it.

“This is insane. House is teeming with people. We... we should wait for them to sleep.”  

Your words make no sense, at least for Leon, and yes, they are sensible, but Leon’s a recalcitrant one. He’s straight in his head.  

“Oh, that’s it?” He lets you in and zooms out the door behind you. Naturally, he first snoops around to see if the place is empty or not. He doesn’t have to search every corner. The survival instinct that comes with his profession assures him that the place is pretty vacant from the moment he steps foot inside.

Your tentative steps are no different than trekking through a minefield. You trust him, but getting nabbed is always a contingency.

“Yeah. Fat chance, sweetheart. It’s now or never.” Leon whispers a brickbat, mimicking the way you croon your words when you feel imperiled. The two of you cross a lane, and Leon turns to you. Curling his fingers around the delineation of your waist, he lifts you onto a sturdy mahogany tabletop that his mother usually decorates with lovely flowers. Show off.  

“What if someone—”  

He heckles you obliquely with his index finger, pressing it just slightly to your lips.  

“I’ll be completely honest when I say this to you. Everybody knows that we’re fucking.”  

“They do?”  

Leon offers one affirmative shake of the head. “My dad and ... my mom... well, she knows everything.”  

“Christ.”  

How much more scandalous information can Leon reveal about his family, you ponder, as your darling brother-in-law rucks the hem of your dress up and you, with what must be muscle memory, spread your legs apart to give him more room to do his thing.

“I knew it.”  

He makes a subtle jab at the sheer wetness staining the frilly seam of your panties. Inoffensive, alright. Call a spade a spade; you’ve been sitting wet from the very beginning of the evening—or rather, from the second you glanced in Leon’s direction. Kind of like a stupid baby who peed her pants.  

“You’re wet, missy.”  

Don’t mind your panties skimming down to your ankles, just around your heels.  

His touch, the one you have been yearning for, sinks into you in two fingers, scissoring your pussy with his middle and ring finger, and your heart nearly pops out of your throat. He could have taken out his phone and taken a picture of a memory he didn’t want to forget, a cover photo that could have been the most memorable snapshot of your face—the most beautifully captured moment of the year.

“So tight,” his whisper sears your chest, “he could never give you what you want, and he will never give you what you want. Gotta be thankful that you have me.” 

Well, you’ve never been a thankful person, but maybe now is the time for a character transformation. Maybe you really should thank your brother-in-law for his very existence this year as he fucks his fingers into your velvety folds.  

“Hmmm? What you say? Don’t you fuck him just to keep yourself for me?”  

“Maybe.” Your breath touches his cheek, like a summery kiss, as he thumbs the spot that makes you squeeze down on his digits.  

“Not the answer I expected, though not that I care. I have more important things to do.”  

He’s talking about important things like you, to be sure, or your lovely cunt where the slick is bleeding on his fingers.  

When he’s sure he can fit himself in, he samples his glistening fingers himself, in his own mouth. A familiar taste, yes, but it leaves a trace of saccharin on his tongue that he has been denied for quite a long time. When it’s forbidden, it’s the lushest.  

“Maybe I’ll eat you tomorrow morning after breakfast.”  

How funny. No offense, but he sucks at these quip games.  

Neither he nor you have the patience to wait any longer in the rush of this. Whatever this is. Quick as it is, Leon wraps your legs around his hips, which he grasps by your calves.  

You do the rest and release him with your hand, loosening the belt around his waist and running your hand down to the zipper of his pants. Either it’s something in your imagination, or tonight he seems bigger to your eyes than you can ever remember him being. That, and the scars, which you can now observe so vividly for the first time. They’re emblazoned on his pale hide and mar him in angry pinks and ultraviolets. As much as you want to touch them, to plant those healing kisses, it’s Leon who stops you.  

“We don’t have time.”  

You already know that. In his defense, Leon and you have made one thing clear from the beginning: no feelings attached!  

So maybe in another universe you had the right Kennedy, and you were the one who lay with him in the same bed. You had a life beside him, with a cat and a dog, plus a roof over your head. Tragically, in this universe you were the cheating slut who cuckolded your fiancé, and he’s the asshole who banged his brother’s fiancé.  

“We don’t have time,” says the smartass, as he strokes the reddish tip of his cock back and forth over your wet entrance and repeats it like a looped movie script. It’s enough to piss you off, but your impatience is through the roof.  

“Please. Please, Leon.”  

The first thing he’s anticipating is the begging stage. But he wants more than that. And you know it.  

“Expecting better words from that witty mouth.”  

You bite your lower lip, and no, that’s not what he’s expecting nor what he aspires to.  

Leon pulls back a little and lays hold of his cock by the shaft. It’s leaking from the tip, and he smears the pre-cum by gliding the fat head of his dick into your slit. Smart saving, no wasted material.  

“See?” He massages the fluids with his ring finger, rubbing everything inside. “How your little pussy loves me. Your body wants me, sweetheart.” 

He then spits on his palm, garbing the dew over his cock, and proves his practical acumen even if he comes up with a solution that is not particularly hygienic.

“Now you tell me. Want me to fuck a little Kennedy in this pretty pussy?”

You should be ashamed of yourself. That you’re dying for this. Synonyms for these images of humiliation, however, don’t even cross your mind during those abandoned seconds.

You don’t know how many times you have shaken your head at him, positively, but it’s so worth it to see that boyish grin on his face. 

“I want it, Leon. Nothing but you.” You are no longer begging but spewing the truth as almost a last resort.  

Leon feels a thrill of elation at the way you squeeze him as he slides into you, tighter than sin. Your lips are sucking in a delicate puff of breath, and he’s not even inside you.  

The table beneath you is virtually slipping out of your palms, but fortunately you have him. He always holds you and always gives you whatever you want. He pulls on your hips, and moonlit tears well up in your eyes, stinging your lashes.  

“Damn, gorgeous. Can barely fucking fit.” The rasp of his lilt in his voice, the rush of his fingers on your hips. It’s all turning your head topsy-turvy. Slow, perhaps lazy thrusts push inside you, and your fluttering walls memorize the shape and outline of a cock that fucks you up inside and out. He leans back and groans as his dick melts into you—inch by inch, deeper and deeper, and the parting of his lips breaks into a grin as you near your limit with a newly forming bulge inside your stomach.

Only then do you auscultate the scratchy urge seething inside him.

“Look at this. Too big for ya? God—missed this pretty pussy so bad.” 

More than you have missed him?

Or does he even realize how wretchedly you tighten around his cock when you hear the subtle eulogy out of his mouth?

This is Leon you’re talking about. Of coure, he feels you. The guy worships you.  

He knows and reads your body, your soul. Goes further when you gently repel back to meet his hips, to less when he realizes that your hand is curling into a fist on his abdomen, and tenses up when he lashes your cervix with a very hard stab.

Everything is for you: every error he has made and will ever repeat and every right he will ever do.  

So is the way his lips quest for yours. The kiss rips out everything in your brain that belongs to survival instincts—rough and soft in equal measure—utterly debauched. His demanding hands play with your right tit poking out of your dress as if it were his own personal meat and vein toy. Hands reach up from his biceps down to his forearms, helpless, and you cling tightly to his shoulders because his body is the only thing that is holding you on the end of the table right now. He’s the only thing keeping you here, against the freezing degrees outside, against the happy house imaginary, against the people in it.  

Your mutinous whimpers choke in your own throat in an audible volume, and you recoil from his lips as if you are screaming in a nightmare but happen to have lost your voice. Eyes glazed, and both your lips are alizarin to the point of bleeding.  

“Look what I fucking do to you, greedy girl.” He reaches down your neck. Doesn’t choke you, though.

He’s the one who made you this way. Tonight he’s just more cynical than you’ve ever known him to be. Dirty talk will definitely rattle around in your brain in the most unlikely of places—maybe during a briefing, or maybe when you’re sitting with your beloved husband-to-be, sipping coffee or hot chocolate together.  

“I can’t. Leon. I think I—” The little words you’re trying to say just won’t come out of your mouth. You push so hard, but there’s simply no way through. Those mental words linger in your mind like clouds of rumination, leaving you mouth agape.  

“Yeah, me too.” He whispers quite musings as his thumb finds the pearl of your clit.

That’s exactly where the hell breaks loose. You no longer possess the vigor to spring up on the table, nor does he have the stamina to be sucked into the molten lava in which he’s melting and kindling.  

Drunken mistakes or impulses often drive people to make a choice they will regret. Your ineptitude is a down payment. Right there and then, you blanket his still throbbing cock, and he’s blinking his eyelashes together. All that ponderous, stinging thrusting, now numb and sporadic.  

“I’ll give you, give you—my baby.”  

Famous last words.

Still, he’s the prettiest man you’ve ever seen. Really, the very essence of male beauty must have been invented for him, or you’re just too fucked up here.

To him, you’re so beautiful, and you take his cock so nicely. Absolutely worth its weight in gold.

With his face sunk into your neck, he moans, making a note of total bliss as he bottoms out, filling you as intensely as possible. Leon betrays a breath of air and closes his eyes for a second as your lovely pussy sucks in every lingering drop.

Your pulse is as senile as an oldie; you’re flushed and panting, gripping the edge of the table beneath you.

The rank ham-fistedness of your conduct dawns on both of you as you both only just regain your composure.

“Merry Christmas, beautiful.” So effortlessly, as if what happened between you hadn’t even had a spare moment to touch you—both emotionally and physically—as if he isn’t still inside you, he gives you his New Year’s wishing.  

“Merry Christmas, Leon.” Back at him, you sigh exasperatedly. No harm done. Can’t help wishing that the new year will be spent right next to him.

“Are you ready to get up, or should I carry you?”  

“Have I told you how hilarious you are?”  

“Oh, honey. The girls love it. So do you.”  

He crowns his comedy rehearsal, which is guaranteed to get a standing ovation, with a conical hat that he finds on the table at a random and very absurd moment and plonks it on your head. You nearly flinch.  

“There you go. Now you fit the theme.” 

[luminique]

Fate, Hollows, Grief and Lighter.

cw // mentions of death, angst, comfort. 4.8k words, not proofread, lighter x gn reader. happy birthday lighter !

You don’t have to be an expert to understand that hollows are confusing. There’s a lot of mystery that goes around them despite the amount of resources that is put into its research. Everyday, it’s some new discovery, some new technology, some new treatment related to them. You told Burnice to switch through the other channels on the mini television at the bar, you didn’t get much of the newer shows in the Outer Ring but you did get the boring news channel.

“Joining us for today’s program is Miss Hoshimi Miyabi from the Hollow Special Operations Section 6. I believe that she needs little to no introduction as your team has been making the rounds online with the most recent case,” a man wearing a black suit, presumably the host, guided the camera over to the thiren next to him with his hand. You’ve seen her before, the proxies that the Sons of Calydon have worked with also mentioned Section 6 as one of their clients. Not everyone can just step into a hollow, even the proxies themselves don’t go in there willingly.

After a moment of silence between the host and Hoshimi Miyabi, the man finally breaks the ice. “Well, we are not here to discuss the controversy; however, there has been a recent discovery regarding the hollows. According to the White Star Institute, your team was able to control Hollow Zero and noticed how time was affected in there. Can you please elaborate on that?” The host was clearly uncomfortable by her quiet demeanor, thinking he’d be interviewing someone who was not as unapproachable as her.

Time, huh? That’s nothing new, even the Tour de Inferno had improved its recording equipment in order to reduce the delay between the inside and outside of the hollow. “Yes, due to its high ether energy, Hollow Zero has the ability to manipulate time, causing us to fight ethereals we had initially already taken down.” The fox thiren finally spoke, her voice was clear and confident, fitting for a chief. The host beamed at her answer, you could see the worry in his eyes when she took a moment to respond to him. “Were there any other anomalies aside from that? The claim coming from the White Star Institute is rather large and I believe that viewers at home would love to hear your experience.”

Lighter notices you staring at the screen intently, it was a rare sight for you to be so engrossed in such a show. He taps the counter a couple of times as he sat on the stool next to you, Burnice immediately understood what that gesture meant. His hand came up to your side, resting it on your hip. “Didn’t know you were into this kind of thing,” his smooth voice cut through your train of thought. You barely even noticed him, finally back from a few small fights but barely even a scratch on his face.

“They’re talking about hollows, those proxy friends of yours should know more about it than this old man on the screen.” you pointed the remote at the screen, not changing the channel though. “My deputy chief, Tsukishiro, found herself reliving a moment from her past relating to another member of my team. Asaba said that he was beginning to see the same ethereal over and over again. For me, on the other hand….” a moment of silence from the young lady as her hands gripped on her neat skirt. “I was able to see other possibilities of my past decisions and how they’d affect my current self.” Her usual commanding voice began to sound slightly weak and shaky yet her expression never faltered.

It slowly clicked in your head. This new discovery was not the simple time manipulation that had been publicly known for years, it was instead a lot more complex. A lot scarier, a lot more complicated and even went into the realm of alternate timelines. Was that even possible? Time travel and theories of alternate timelines have been one of humankind’s biggest questions. Would this not have been found out earlier while researching other hollows? Every smaller hollow around Eridu came from the existence of Hollow Zero, what made those any different?

You turn to look at Lighter, his usual laid back demeanor now mirrored yours. He hadn’t even touched his drink once since Miyabi had spoken. “Now look who’s the one staring at the TV,” you teased as you pushed on his shoulder lightly. His sunglasses slipped down his nose bridge, he cleared his throat as he pushed his shades up. “I just thought it was interesting, nothing more,” he pretended to not show how much that information meant to him.

If you could do it all over again, would you? The opportunity was presented right at him, albeit from a boring show on the TV. Rarely was it ever on this channel, as Burnice would normally choose to have it on some sort of sports or music channel. However, she’d listen to her customer in front of her and on this early evening, it was only you sitting there.

The thought was intriguing, he did have a higher ether aptitude than most. Venturing into hollows alone, with a carrot, wasn’t anything new to him, especially not after the passing of his fallen comrades. He doesn’t know exactly where they were last but he’d often bring flowers to where he found their dog tags, at least he knew they were there at one point. He knew that time worked differently inside the hollows, communication becoming an issue inside and outside of it, but he didn’t know anything more than that was capable.

No, no. He can’t just go into Hollow Zero and come out unscathed like it’s a normal fight. He could live his whole life not knowing what would’ve happened if he had chosen to go with them but the knowledge that he can, at least, see its possibility… that was eating at him. After you had teased him, the idea was still there. Who wouldn’t want to know what happened during that one moment in their life? Who wouldn’t want to know the answer to ‘what if’ and ‘if only’? He shook his head, trying to get rid of the curiosity building up in him.

Cold glass, the refreshing drink that he had gotten accustomed to since joining the Sons of Calydon now tasted bitter. No lollipop in his pocket to distract him from his thoughts. Another harsh swallow, he placed the glass back on the counter. “Do you want another glass? Maybe some Nitro-Fuel instead?” Burnice’s cheerful self was always ready to fill a glass up despite knowing that he doesn’t prefer the taste of Nitro-Fuel on its own. Now though, it sounded just perfect to make him forget this information.

Night time came, the howling winds kept Lighter awake. Usually he would have passed out already from the amount of Nitro-Fuel he drank but for some odd reason, he couldn’t now. It wasn’t odd at all, he knew why he was awake. Haunted by the memories of a not-so-distant past, the voices of his comrades rang in his ears as he got up from his bed. His bright red scarf that contrasted his usual outfit, was now stuffed deeply into his jacket. The soft clinging of the dog tags were now muffled by his scarf, his heavy footsteps making his way out to his bike. The only way to forget is to completely kill a man, erase his memories and the possibilities that he can come up with.

With his past as mercenary leader, getting to Hollow Zero wasn’t a mystery. Many have gone there in hopes of getting rich, finding some sort of ethereal matter, or maybe searching for whatever was left of the person they once were. Dodging a few military bases, back roads and, going through smaller hollows, Lighter found himself right at the edge of Hollow Zero. There were a few close calls on his way here, but nothing a Carrot can’t solve. The convenience of modern technology, able to find the safest route out and predict any new changes in the course of being in the Hollow. If only they could predict the possibility of his friends passing that day.

He parked his bike, brought the little bangboo off his bike and took a deep breath. “Lighter…” He heard the faint whispers of his name as he stepped into the pitch black sphere, the voices sounded oddly familiar to him. An older breathier male voice, a deeper younger male voice, and a reassuring female voice all coming together to call for his name. No, he can’t be hearing things. He was still young and had just entered the hollow. Signs of corruption did not include hallucinations, nor did it include any sort of hearing problems. He ventured deeper into the hollow, bangboo by his side to make sure he’d make his way out.

Ethereals came at him but they were no match, one after another. A swift punch before landing his finishing blows on them, he dusted off the little bits of burnt etheric matter off his shoulders. “Lighter! There you are!” He immediately prepared himself for another fight, quickly looking around for the source of that voice. No ethereal was in sight however, maybe it was paranoia striking him once more. He decided to take a break somewhere off to the side, taking a serum to reduce ether corruption. He closed his eyes, the rubble of the Fallen Eridu surrounding him as he was taken back to his days of a mercenary leader.

He remembers it like it was just yesterday. The smiles on their face, the laughter, the drinks, the bets, everything that your typical mercenary group does. They were his comrades, his friends, his family at the time. He was still new to leading a team, choosing to go for the higher paying jobs in the hollows rather than outside work. He’d come back with a few bruises here and there, getting patched up while trying to split up the money they received. The hands of Dane scruffing Lighter’s hair, or Nick reminding him to stop smoking, or Ratena drinking another pint of Nitro-Fuel with him. He could see and feel those memories so vividly…

“We’ll be heading out now, Boss.” Dane gave a hearty pat on Lighter’s shoulder, a firm goodbye grip to tell him to rest. Lighter chuckled as Dane finally let go,“It still sounds weird…” he added on, believing that such a title isn’t fit for him just yet. “Ratena, you got the med kit ready?” He asked the tomboy-looking female who was always prepared when it came to injuries. Even his now fractured arm was taken care of by her, proving her deep knowledge in the field of first aid. She nodded towards him with a small wave of her supplies in hand, “All ready, Lighter!” Nick gave a weary smile, one that was oddly energetic for a much older man than everyone else in the group.

“Take care, everyone. Remember what we’re going in there for, retrieve the item and receive our cash,” everyone looked towards their leader, Lighter giving them one last reminder before they headed off. All of their dog tags hung around their necks, reflecting the bright sunlight and Lighter’s own reflection. “Be back safely!” Dane’s little sister began waving goodbye as they watched the team head off straight into the hollow. Lighter knew of the dangers that they could face while in there, especially with the lack of a Carrot. Those don’t go for cheap however, good and reliable info about hollows aren’t easy to come by at low prices.

That final goodbye would serve to be his biggest regret in life. A wound that can never be healed no matter the amount of times he went back to the last place he found their tags. He had called out for them and yet no response, shouting into an endless void. What would’ve happened if he had followed them that day, not heeding their advice and sacrificing himself alongside them. Non-existent answers to a question that has ruined a young man of his own mental freedom.

Boss… Kiddo…. Lighter….

Was he going insane again? He opened his eyes, expecting to see nothing just like before but this time, he was outside of his old mercenary camp. A distant woof could be heard as an eager dog ran right up to him, pouncing onto him. ‘What? This… this isn’t right…’ Lighter thought to himself. Was this some sort of deja vu? A dream of some sort? The dog licks Lighter’s face, excitedly panting and sniffing him. This felt a little too real for him, running his hand through its soft fur.

“Lighter! We got another commission today. Gotta go into this hollow, grab this ‘mysterious item’ and they’re paying us big time,” Dane came up behind him and petted the dog, throwing a small ball to allow Lighter to get up. Lighter turned around, seeing the large man with his familiar beanie towering over him. He fell back, not believing what he was seeing. Was he dead? They do say that the brain replays the best moments of one’s life before death, but this seemed less like a memory and more like reality.

This was just the day before their deaths, was this his second chance? “I was able to see other possibilities of my past decisions and how they’d affect my current self,” the fox thiren’s experience now making sense as he looked up at his should-be-dead companion. “U-uh yeah. Dane, sorry but I don’t think we should accept this mission,” Lighter grabbed Dane’s hand, his fractured one still healing in its cast. Dane blinked at his teal-haired leader in confusion, not expecting him to decline such an offer. They walked back into the home, Ratena and Nick coming up to them with big smiles on their faces.

As Ratena tended to Lighter’s fractured arm, they all discussed their plan regarding the new mission. “They said it’s just a box, bring it back safely and then we’ll get paid,” Dane said with lots of enthusiasm, playing around with his little sister. Nick gave a hearty chuckle, petting the dog as he spoke, “It’s not easy, my boy. Look at what happened to Lighter the last time we went into a hollow.” Both men looked over to Lighter, seeing the effects of an ethereal attack and Nick being physically unfit to keep up with the rest of the group. Before Ratena could give her input, Lighter interjected with the knowledge of their future. “I really don’t think we should go. Hollows are dangerous and just like Nick said, ethereals are no joke.” Lighter hoped they would understand him without him needing to explain to them why they shouldn’t go.

Ratena shook her head, “Oh c’mon Lighter, you don’t trust us? We got out safely last time and we made big bucks.” Safely? Was having a fractured arm considered safe? Was bleeding out his side considered safe? “Guys, you can’t be serious.” Lighter was in disbelief, he remembered his initial response in his past. He had agreed wholeheartedly to the offer, thinking that such a huge sum of cash was what they all needed to live better lives. Now with his knowledge, he didn’t want to lose them. Not again, he didn’t want to make the same mistake twice.

“Yeah boss, we know how hard you’re working. You gotta rest up and we’re more than capable of taking down those ethereals.” Dane gave him a wolfish grin, clearly oblivious to why Lighter was so against all of this in the first place. “We’ll leave in the morning, be back by sunset.” Nick had the whole plan laid out on the table, trying his best to reassure their worried leader. Everyone went to their sleeping quarters that night but Lighter couldn’t sleep at all knowing what would happen to them. He laid awake in his cold bed that his body used to find solace in, but now reminded him of the hard shell of a coffin.

Sunlight came streaming through the windows, Lighter was the first to get up, the rest unknown to his lack of sleep. Everything replayed exactly as it did on that fateful day; Dane placing his hand on Lighter’s shoulder, Ratena waving her first aid kit in the air, Nick’s energetic smile that highlighted his wrinkles. He can’t relive this, he can’t let this happen. “W-wait!” They all turned back to him, stopping right in their tracks. Lighter had already told them to take care, what else was there to be said? ‘Don’t die’? ‘Don’t go’? ‘You’ll all die and I won’t be able to find you’? He had recurring nightmares of this exact moment multiple times before this and yet, the words were stuck in his throat. “I’ll miss all of you.” Lighter couldn’t stop them, even if he tried. Fate is cruel in that way, never is it a choice, unable to be changed. As he watched them leave again, tears began to prick his olive eyes. He closed his eyes, trying to blink away those tears but also look away from his regrettable decision.

The sandpaper-like wet and warm muscle went up Lighter’s cheek again. He blinked open his eyes, seeing the familiar sight of yesterday. Was this some sort of hell? A never-ending cycle of living his lifelong burden he carried with him. As expected, Dane’s voice could be heard once more, grabbing Lighter up from the ground and bringing him back into the camp. As expected, they had planned to take up the offer because money is money and they were mercenaries first and foremost.

He was determined this time. If he couldn’t stop them from going, at the very least he had to make sure to go with them. Ever since that day, he had been yearning for death. If Fate won’t change his friends’ passing, maybe it will be kind enough to change his. “I’ll go along,” Lighter’s confident voice cut through their chatter. “But boss, you’re being stretched thin.” “Your condition still isn’t fit for a mission in a hollow.” “Take it from an old man, you deserve the rest, son.” All of them gave their own concerns to Lighter’s suggestion–arguably, it sounded closer to an order rather than a suggestion–but he didn’t want to listen to them. He was adamant, also having his own power as their leader to push himself into this plan. He was willing to do anything, not caring about his injuries. With little to no luck, they accepted his persistence, each slowly heading off to bed to prepare for the early morning.

He had dreamt of this possibility for days, maybe even months. His body was definitely not in the best shape but if he could spend just a few more minutes with his comrades, his limbs could be torn off by an ethereal and he’d still smile through it all. It all played out exactly as his memories, this time he was joining them. As they walked together towards the hollow, Lighter began to feel dizzy. His vision slowly blurred, however his companions continued to walk forward.

“Dane! Nick! Ratena!” Lighter called out to them, yet they didn’t turn around, not even taking a moment to stop. “No, no, no no no no NO-” He tried running towards them but the distance just kept getting further and further. Running infinitely, trying to catch up to them but with his poor condition and slowly darkening eyesight, he couldn’t continue anymore. He came to a stop, looking down to his feet and seeing something shine in the dust. As he bent down, his eyes widened in surprise. It was their dog tags; Dane, Nick, and Ratenna, but there was one more with its name turned over. Lighter Lorenz. His name. How was that possible? His hand immediately went to his neck, searching for his tag that always hung around there. It wasn’t there. That was his dog tag, on the ground, with the rest of his mercenary companions.

He fell to his knees, understanding the possible outcome of this decision he could’ve made back then. Who would have found these if it weren’t him? Who would carry on their stories if he had gone along with them? What does that mean for his current present self? Questions bounced around in his head, holding those dog tags close to his chest. Tears began to trickle down his face once more, sadness being a common emotion at the end of all of these possibilities.

As he blinked away those tears, his surroundings had also changed. His bangboo would’ve notified him if he walked into a fissure so there was no way that he did. The setting sun of the Outer Ring burned his pupils, a scenery that he has become more than accustomed to since joining the Sons of Calydon. He hadn’t made any regretful decisions since joining, so there has got to be a reason that he’s experiencing this random day again.

He heard footsteps coming up behind him, followed by the sounds of feminine laughter. Despite being called the Sons of Calydon, it was a biker gang filled with mainly women. Currently, he is their champion, always winning and never turning down a challenge. They all stood side by side next to him, joking and teasing around with each other. “Caesar! Did you use my makeup again?” Lucy was trying her best to pull the tall green-grey haired woman down to her height. Piper barely kept her eyes open while Burnice was drinking another pint of Nitro-Fuel down as they all watched the sunset together.

“I can always buy you more makeup, Lucy.” Lighter offered, his used to be young voice was now a lot deeper. None of them replied to him though; Caesar and Lucy still argued with each other, Piper was trying her best to stand up straight, Burnice started playing her songs. Was he being intentionally ignored? He remembers this moment, him heading out to Lumina Square and there he met you. His life had fully turned around when he joined the Sons of Calydon, understanding what it meant to be a Champion. Not just theirs, but yours as well. He had people he wanted to protect, disasters he wanted to prevent.

Fate played its tricks on him once more. He had his ‘second chance’, choosing to die alongside his comrades and now he had to ‘live’ as a ghost. Lighter was slowly trying to figure out how Hollow Zero was affecting his memories and ‘fate’. None of this was real–he knew that at least–but he had to admit that it felt real. Would he be satisfied with death? Would he be satisfied with his story not having a proper ending? His movie could be hours long, but after 30 minutes, there would be an abrupt black screen.

‘The aim of all life is death. Only there can we find true peace.’

This wasn’t the peace that he wanted. He craved closure, real end credits to his tragic documentary. If the aim is death, then he’ll live until he’s tired of it. Until his face becomes sore from smiling with you, until his taste buds turn numb with the lingering after notes of Nitro-Fuel, until his eyesight becomes hazy from the bright lights of the city, until his ears start ringing because of everyone’s laughter.

He yearned for death, believing that regret was all he could carry in his heart. Love and companionship changes a person, losing it turns them into a monster. He knows how it feels to have survivor’s guilt, he now knows how it feels to have so much love left to give but ultimately ripped away from him. Care, love, remorse, regret, they all went hand in hand when it came to Lighter, he can’t have one without the other. Tough decisions, bad mistakes but they all ultimately led him to where he was now.

He felt the Outer Ring’s breeze brush his face, a soft and gentle reminder of his new home and his new family.

Lighter opened his eyes once more, a small LED screen with crying eyes were barely inches away from his face. His hand went up to give the little bangboo a pat on the head, making it immediately spring back to life. “Hey, little guy. You think you can get us out of here?” Lighter asked as he slowly pushed himself up, seeing a few ethereals around. The bangboo began running through the hollow, following its Carrot to find the nearest exit out of Hollow Zero.

A couple of punches before swiftly sliding away. His top priority was to get out safely, not to fight every ethereal in his path. This ever changing maze proved to be difficult to navigate, the poor bangboo constantly finding a new route. After winding through the ruins of Old Eridu, they finally made it out of Hollow Zero. Further away from where they initially entered, however nothing too far to walk to. The sun was beginning to rise now, painting the sky in light gold hues. As he drove back to Blazewood, he took in the early morning sights of the Outer Ring. After living in the shadows for so long, he remembers his first purchase since being saved by Big Daddy. He used a little bit of the money to purchase his first and only pair of sunglasses. In order to help him acclimatize to bright life above those fighting rings while helping him with his hemophobia and eye injury, he thought that the shades would be a good start to his new chapter. Everything was a change of pace, including these.

“Lighter! There you are!” He immediately froze up. Those were the same words he heard in the Hollow. Was he still in there? He got off his bike and turned around slowly, preparing himself to see nothing again. “Where were you? I was worried sick last night when I went over to your room and you didn’t respond.” Your concerned voice put him at ease as he looked at you. “Uh um… my bad. Just… wanted to go for a late night drive,” his voice was shaky, hoping you wouldn’t see through his lie. Your brows furrowed as you looked him up and down, he felt as though he should just die because of your intense gaze. “Without me?? Next time I go to Lumina Square, I am not buying you the super pack of lollipops,” you teased him. He let out the biggest sigh of relief, for once not worrying about whether he’d get his favorite grape-flavored lollipop.

He removed his glove off of his hand and brought it up the side of your face. Your soft skin under his calloused hands, this felt like his true reality. He could see the way you scrunched up your nose, your eyebrows raised as he began caressing your cheek. “I missed you,” he whispered out, just loud enough for you to hear. It was still early in the morning, not as many people out just yet so he could allow himself this vulnerability for just a moment. Especially after realizing the possibility of never seeing you again, never seeing the girls again, he doesn’t know if he’s ready to go just yet. “What are you saying? Did you hit your head on a cactus?” Your hand went up to his, cupping it against your face as you nuzzled into him. He couldn’t give this up, never in his wildest dreams could he imagine a decision better than what he made back then.

“I just thought I should tell you. I lo-“ just as he was about to finish his words, Piper comes up in Steeltusk, parking the truck right next to the both of you. “You youngsters are so energetic these days…” She commented as she filled up the truck with some fuel, chuckling to herself. Both of you turned a little red, Lighter especially. Everyone knew of your relationship and yet it was still a little embarrassing to be so outwardly in love with each other. Lighter cleared his throat, thinking that Piper was still the same as she was in his memories. The rest of the girls were probably still asleep but this was all he needed to confirm that he was indeed out of that damned hollow.

With your hand in his, he knew what was waiting for him at the end of his life. The Sons of Calydon that he sworn to always win for, his mercenary comrades that haunts him every night, the friends he had made through the Tour de Inferno, and his love that was willing to be with him through it all. Fate is unfair, humans do not have the power to change what has already been decided. However, being human means having the power to live your life to its fullest, accepting what fate has in store and learning from it. Lighter will carry his regrets and burdens with him, over into the afterlife and even when all he becomes is a humble cactus to poke you.

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Little Darling

Epilogue

It's 1997, and Elvis is still alive and well. He quit music in 1972 after a successful world tour, and now he runs Presley Studios - teaching people karate across America. His daughter and grandchildren are regular visitors at Graceland, and when he’s in Memphis he likes to do a little teaching. His life is quieter now, though. Most of the Mafia have gone - going to live their own lives - and after his divorce from his second wife, Elvis is sworn off women for good. Will a Welsh girl with a wicked sense of humour be the one to make him break his promise to himself not to fall in love again?

Need to catch up? Go here.

Pairing: Old Man!Elvis x OC - Tegan, a Welsh girl he meets at karate.

Word count: 1.3K

TWs: Just a little dirty talk really.

A/N: Well, this is the end! Thanks to everyone who has interacted with this fic - it was a labour of love and I have cherished every single comment, reblog and message 💕

When Tegan wakes the next morning she feels the events of the night before in her body before she remembers them. As they start to come back to her, slowly at first and then more and more rapidly she feels a smile spreading across her face. She’d enjoyed last night. A lot. She rolls over to find Elvis already sat up in bed, reading. Groaning and stretching, she tries to wake herself up properly. It’d been really late when Jerry had finally left their bed for his own; they’d spent hours talking together about all sorts of things. 

“Mornin’ sunshine.”

Elvis closes the book and puts it down on the bedside table, looking at his girlfriend as she peers back through half-open eyes. 

“Mmmm. ‘Raur.”

“How ya feelin’?”

She closes one eye and squints at him through the other. “Thoroughly fucked.”

That earns her a belly laugh, one of her absolute favourite Elvis reactions. “Well that’s coz ya were, baby.”

She closes both eyes and puts her face in her hands, giggling. “I loved it,” she admits, still hiding. 

“Hmmm. Well it was a damn good Christmas gift, considerin’ ya didn’t even know Jerry was comin’ until the night before.”

She looks up, cautiously. “You think I’m a slut, for doing that? I only just met the guy…”

Elvis shakes his head, leaning down to kiss the top of hers. “Baby, I used ta fuck a different girl every night on some tours. Met ‘em, liked ‘em, made ‘em cum. Plus I know ya only jus’ met ‘im, but Jerry’s been my best friend fer years.”

Tegan thinks about this as she slowly sits up. “You ever do this with Stella?”

He blinks in surprise. “Uh… no.”

“Oh.”

“I uh… she wanted the picket fence life.”

She shifts to lean against him. “What kind of life do you want?”

“One with you in it, honey.”

She smiles against his pyjama top. “Me too.”

“But, uh, not one with Jerry… y’know…”

“I’m not sure I do know.”

Elvis sighs. “Yer makin’ me say it, again.”

“I mean, last night you told me you and Jerry used to take it in turns to fuck women you met on tour. And now you’re going all shy again?”

“I was a little drunk last night, darlin’.”

Tegan looks up at his face from her position with her head against his shoulder. “What’re you trying to say, ‘raur? Spit it out.”

Another deep sigh. “Last night was fun. But I don’t want Jerry as a permanent fixture in our bedroom.”

Tegan raises an eyebrow. 

“I don’t want him fuckin’ ya all the time!” Elvis snaps, exasperated. “Yer mine. I don’t mind if he borrows ya, under supervision… on special occasions y’know. But not…” he sighs again and waves a finger around in a circle. “This… ain’t a thing.”

Tegan smiles at his possessiveness. She feels like she ought to be offended by him talking about her like she’s a rare library book, but instead it makes her feel all warm inside. 

“I enjoyed last night a lot,” she begins, wrapping her arm around him. “I’m glad we did it. And if you and Jerry want to do it again before he leaves, then I’d be down. But I don’t want anything more than that. One boyfriend is enough.”

It’s Elvis’ turn to raise an eyebrow. “Ya wanna do it again?”

She giggles into his shoulder. “Mmm. Yeah.”

“Well, we’ll see about that, little girl…”

***

Elvis, Tegan and Jerry have fun together again more than once, but after Elvis’ massive New Year’s Eve party Jerry goes back to LA, and although they both miss him they’re glad to be back to just the two of them for a while. They get professional photos taken of the two of them with Coffi, and the best one - where they have forgotten the camera and are just staring into one another’s eyes, giggling over some shared joke or other - hangs with the other family shots on the wall in the living room of Graceland. They share their time between the mansion and the apartment, and despite Elvis’ best attempts to persuade her to give it up, Tegan continues working at the recording studio, though she drops down to three days a week as a compromise. She finally takes her grading seriously, and by the end of the year she’s a purple belt. Elvis is proud of her, but he still thinks she could practise more at home. 

He travels less for work now, feeling content staying in Memphis for months at a time. There are still times when he has to pay one of the studios on the other side of the country a visit, and Tegan can’t always take time off work to go with him. He misses her like crazy, but she’s secretly a little relieved to have time to herself, though of course she doesn’t tell him that. 

One day after a trip to Kansas, he presents her with a big box with a pink bow on the outside. 

“Jus’ somethin’ for ya for next time I’m away.”

Tegan’s mind boggles at the possibilities, but nothing she thinks of is what she eventually finds in the box. 

“It’s…a bear?”

“Squeeze ‘im.”

Tegan puts both hands around the middle of the teddy and squeezes.

“Daddy misses ya, Tegan bach.” The teddy bear says, in Elvis’ unmistakable drawl. 

Tegan squeals, then giggles, then squeezes it again to see if it does the same thing, which it does. 

“He’s from build-a-bear,” Elvis explains. “Got ‘im from the second store in the country. Ya make ‘im yerself, put a little heart in him…” he smiles, bashfully. “...an’ ya can record a little thing for ‘im ta say. Got them ta open the store in the middle of the night fer me so I didn’t get papped doin’ it.”

“Aww ‘raur!” Tegan throws an arm around Elvis’ neck, cuddling him close and holding the bear out to the side slightly to avoid squashing him. “He’s adorable. You’re adorable.”

“Glad ya like ‘im, honey.”

They pull apart and she looks down at the bear again. “He needs a name.”

Elvis’ arm slips around her waist and he presses his lips to her ear. “Why don’tcha call ‘im Elvis?”

Tegan pushes on his chest, laughing. “Don’t be filthy now! This is a nice, cute bear!”

“Me? Filthy? I don’t know whatcha mean, Queenie.”

He’s desperately trying to keep a straight face, but Tegan can see his eyes shining with amusement. 

“You’re giving me a bear to keep me company when you’re away, and you want me to name him Elvis?” Her eyebrow is raised and her hand is on her hip, but she’s struggling to keep from laughing, too. 

“Uh huh. Ya can cuddle up ta him in bed when I’m not there.”

“Right, right, yeah of course. That’s all you meant.”

“Sure.” His lip is quivering at this point, as he tries desperately not to grin. “I mean I wouldn’t want ta get between a girl an’ her bear, and whatever else she might wanna do with him when she’s missin’ me…”

“Elvis Presley.” Tegan uses her best school teacherish tone, but eventually the pressure of trying not to laugh gets to be too much and they both burst into peals of laughter. 

“What?!”

She hits him with the bear, inadvertently making the voice go off and their hysterics even worse. 

“Hey, you’ll hurt ‘im!”

“I’ll hurt you in a minute!”

They keep giggling as Elvis pulls her in close, pressing his forehead against hers. 

“Yer always makin’ me laugh, little darlin’,” he breathes. “‘M glad I came ta teach that karate class.”

“I’m glad too, ‘raur.”

“Don't know what I'd do without ya, Queenie.”

She smirks. “Well I can get you your own bear if you really want…”

***

Taglist:

@vintagepresley @arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @sissylittlefeather @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @cattcb @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @ccab @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine @that-hotdog @ladelinee @angschrof @fairybloodsucker @deltafalax @makethemorning @elviswhore69 @ilovequeen978 @wildhorseinkansas @pocketfulofpresley @dkayfixates @iloveelvisss @kxnnxy

[bokutosbabe]

it’s for the married couple event :D

isagi + 🍉 + 🍭

have a great day 🫶

i hope you have a great day too!

an isagi yoichi watermelon sucker

જ⁀♡⊹｡° a dwindling , mercurial high

♡ a/n — for my more than a married couple event!

♡ content — isagi yoichi x gn! reader, gn! reader, tried to make it as gn as possible but if you see a she/he in there referring to the reader pls lmk!, fake dating, kinda unrequited love, isagi still plays soccer, set in a high school, reader's had a crush on yoichi for a while

♡ synopsis — the plan was to get through this simulation as smoothly as possible, but when you're paired with isagi yoichi, that won't happen.

The marriage simulation program wasn’t just a quirky school experiment to teach life skills—it was a competitive test of teamwork, resourcefulness, and communication. And when your name was paired with Isagi Yoichi’s, the school’s friendly, hardworking soccer star, you didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“Guess we make a good team, huh?” Yoichi grinned, holding up the assignment sheet with both of your names highlighted.

“Sure,” you said with a forced smile, your stomach twisting. Teamwork wasn’t the issue. Yoichi was great—kind, dependable, and endlessly encouraging. The problem was your not-so-tiny, not-so-manageable crush on him, something you’d buried for years.

And now, living with him for a month? Pretending to be married? It felt like walking a tightrope over your feelings.

The first week was easy enough. Yoichi, ever the optimist, took the tasks seriously: planning “dates” for extra credit, cooking dinner together, and even budgeting for pretend household expenses. You played along, keeping a safe emotional distance while fulfilling every assignment.

But things took a sharp turn when Yoichi came up with his next brilliant idea.

“People are talking about us,” he said one afternoon, scrolling through his phone.

“Talking about what?”

He turned the screen toward you, showing a string of group chat messages.

— Isagi and Y/N look so natural together. Are they really a couple? —They were holding hands yesterday during the task. Maybe it’s real?

Your face grew warm as you looked back at him. “We were holding hands because this stupid test required it!”

Yoichi scratched the back of his head, his sheepish grin doing nothing to calm your nerves. “Yeah, but… people are going to keep asking. And, well, if we tell them we’re actually together, it might stop the rumors.”

You stared at him, stunned. “You want us to tell people we're dating? You want us to fake date?”

“Just until the simulation ends,” he said quickly., as if he couldn't get the words out of his mouth fast enough. “It’s not like it’d be that different from what we’re already doing, right?”

His logic was infuriatingly sound, but it still felt dangerous—like inviting trouble into a house already on fire. Against your better judgment, you nodded. “Fine. But this stays between us.”

“Deal.”

The fake dating went almost too well.

Yoichi was good at playing the doting partner, maybe too good. He’d drape an arm around your shoulders during group outings, laugh at your jokes like they were the funniest thing he’d ever heard, and casually call you nicknames that sent your heart racing.

But when it was just the two of you, the act faded into something quieter, something closer to real. Like when he’d sit next to you during dinner, asking about your day with genuine interest. Or when he’d stay up late helping you with assignments, his focus unwavering.

You told yourself it was just for the simulation. Just part of the act. But deep down, you knew you were falling deeper than ever.

Things hit a breaking point during one of the simulation’s final tasks: a “couples’ interview,” where pairs had to answer questions about each other to test their “compatibility.”

“What’s Yoichi’s biggest dream?” the interviewer asked, her pen poised over her clipboard.

“To become a professional soccer player,” you said without hesitation. “He’s been working toward it for as long as I’ve known him.”

You were grateful for the easy question, everyone knew that about Isagi. Yes, you knew almost everything that had been asked so far too, but you assumed it was basic knowledge to know these things about your partner. (it's not, half of the other groups couldn't answer these questions.)

Yoichi’s eyes widened slightly before he smiled, his expression softening. “Yeah, that’s right. And Y/N's dream is to travel the world someday. They're always talking about all the places they want to see.”

Your chest tightened. You mentioned that once in passing, while the two of you were watching a nature documentary.

You hadn’t expected him to remember.

The interviewer beamed. “You two really know each other well.”

You forced a smile, but the weight of his words lingered long after the interview ended.

As the simulation neared its end, the line between fake and real blurred beyond recognition.

“I think we’ve got the highest score in the class,” Yoichi said one night, leaning against the counter while you washed dishes.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice quieter than usual.

He noticed, of course. Yoichi always noticed. “Hey, are you okay?”

You hesitated, your hands stilling under the faucet. “What happens when this is over?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… us. The fake dating. Do we just go back to normal?”

Yoichi’s smile faltered. He looked down at the floor, his usual confidence replaced by uncertainty. “I guess so. That’s what we agreed on, right?”

Your heart ached at his words, even though you’d expected them. “Yeah. Right.”

What did you expect? Isagi Yoichi wasn't the type of person to fall for you.

You were just foolish.

The final day of the simulation arrived, and the apartment felt emptier than ever as you packed your things. Yoichi was unusually quiet, his movements slower than usual as he folded his clothes into his suitcase.

“So… this is it,” you said, forcing a smile.

“Yeah,” he replied, his voice soft. He looked at you, his eyes searching yours like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

“Good luck with soccer,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “I know you’ll do great.”

“Thanks,” he said, his smile faint. “And I hope you get to see all those places you’ve always dreamed about.”

For a moment, it felt like there was something hanging in the air between you—something fragile and unfinished. But before either of you could speak, the program coordinator knocked on the door, signaling the official end of the simulation.

Yoichi grabbed his suitcase and walked to the door, hesitating briefly before turning back to you. “See you around, Y/N.”

“See you,” you whispered.

And just like that, he was gone, leaving you with an empty apartment and a heart full of questions that would never have answers.

fake dating isagi...yes pls

i hope you liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[ouiouibaguettt]

New Beginnings

wbb masterlist

Y/N -> your name. Italics -> text

9,6k words (this one was sleeping in my draft for too long)

______________________________________________________________________

The UConn Huskies women’s basketball team had just finished a grueling practice session, one of many in the lead-up to their upcoming games. The air was thick with exhaustion, but there was an undercurrent of excitement. It was the kind of energy that came from knowing they were a championship-caliber team, but also one that came with the pressure of maintaining their elite status.

Azzi Fudd, the team’s shining star, was doing her usual post-practice ritual of shooting free throws, her focus unwavering. Her teammates, including the newly arrived Y/N, were gathered near the locker room, cooling down. Y/N had transferred to UConn from another university, and while she had quickly become a key player, there was something about her that stood out to Azzi—something beyond her skills on the court.

As Y/N grabbed a water bottle, she caught sight of Azzi, still on the court. Something about the way she moved, the intensity with which she practiced, was mesmerizing. Y/N had always admired Azzi from afar, but now being on the same team as her was a dream come true—and one that was quickly becoming more complicated.

After the rest of the team had headed to the locker room, Y/N stayed behind, taking a few extra shots to clear her mind. It had been a tough practice, and her body ached. She didn’t notice Azzi walking up beside her until she heard her voice.

“You staying late too?” Azzi asked, her voice casual but with a knowing glint in her eye.

Y/N glanced up and smiled. “Yeah, just working out some kinks. Practice was intense today.”

Azzi chuckled, stepping closer. “Tell me about it. We’ve got to be sharp if we want to win it all this season.” She paused for a moment, eyeing Y/N. “But you’ve got the skills. I’ve seen your game; you’re gonna make a huge impact here.”

The compliment made Y/N’s heart race a little faster. She had watched Azzi on TV for years before they were teammates, so to hear praise from her felt surreal.

“Thanks” Y/N said, trying to keep her cool. “It’s still a lot to adjust to, but I’m ready.”

Azzi grinned, walking toward the free throw line and casually taking a shot. “You’ll get there. We all have to work harder if we want to be champions.”

Y/N nodded, stepping forward to join her. The two of them spent the next few minutes practicing free throws together, pushing each other to make every shot. They didn’t talk much; instead, they communicated in the unspoken language of teammates—pushing each other to be better, always.

A few days later, UConn had their first big game of the season. The energy in the arena was electric, the stands packed with fans. The competition was fierce, but Azzi and Y/N were in perfect sync, moving as one, anticipating each other’s plays. KK Arnold was on the court as well, making sharp passes, while Paige Bueckers moved fluidly, executing her usual dazzling plays. But despite the solid teamwork around her, Y/N couldn’t keep her eyes off Azzi.

Azzi’s focus on the court was undeniable. She was a force to be reckoned with, but there was a quiet intensity to her that drew Y/N in. And every now and then, when their eyes met across the court, there was an unspoken connection between them that neither could ignore.

As the game went on, the intensity mounted. UConn’s opponent was tough, but the Huskies’ skill, especially Azzi’s leadership and Y/N’s sharp shooting, began to turn the tide. With just minutes left in the game, the score was neck-and-neck.

KK Arnold brought the ball up the court, and Y/N found herself in position for a perfect shot. Azzi, who had been leading the charge, drew the defense in and passed the ball to Y/N, who drained a three-pointer. The crowd erupted into cheers as UConn took the lead.

Azzi was the first to rush over to Y/N, throwing an arm around her in a quick hug. “That’s what I’m talking about!” she shouted over the noise of the crowd, her face lighting up with pride.

Y/N smiled, her heart racing. “Thanks for the assist, Azzi. You made that play happen.”

Azzi shrugged, her eyes shining with excitement. “We make each other better.”

After the game, the team gathered in the locker room, the excitement of the win still buzzing in the air. The coaches were handing out praise, but it was clear that Azzi, Y/N, Paige, and KK were the stars of the game. Everyone was buzzing, but there was a certain warmth in the air as the team celebrated their success.

Y/N found herself standing next to Azzi, the two of them smiling and laughing about the game. The tension that had been building between them, from practice to the court, seemed to ease after the win.

“I knew you had it in you” Azzi said, nudging Y/N playfully with her shoulder.

Y/N laughed, glancing at Azzi, her heart fluttering. “I couldn’t have done it without you. Your assists were on point today.”

Azzi grinned, stepping a little closer. “Teamwork. That’s how we’re gonna win it all this season.”

Before Y/N could respond, Azzi reached out and pulled her into a quick, but intimate hug, wrapping her arms around Y/N’s shoulders. Y/N hesitated for a moment, then wrapped her arms around Azzi’s waist, feeling a rush of warmth flood through her. The quiet PDA was not for the cameras or the fans—it was a moment just between them.

“We’ve got this” Y/N whispered into Azzi’s ear, her heart racing.

Azzi pulled back just enough to look at her, her eyes soft and sincere. “Yeah, we do.”

The team’s celebrations continued around them, but in that moment, it felt like everything was in perfect balance—basketball, friendship, and something more that neither of them was quite ready to define. All they knew was that they had each other, both on and off the court. And as the season progressed, it was clear that whatever happened, they were in it together.

As the season went on, the connection between Azzi and Y/N grew. On the court, they were unstoppable. Off the court, their chemistry continued to build. Between practices, games, and their growing bond, it became evident that their relationship wasn’t just about basketball—it was about understanding, support, and an unspoken trust that only teammates, and maybe something more, could share.

Their bond had only just begun, and with the season still ahead of them, Azzi and Y/N knew that no matter where their relationship went, they had something special that could carry them through any challenge—together.

______________________________________________________________________

The season was heating up, and UConn was ready to face one of their toughest opponents yet—Iowa. The arena was buzzing with anticipation, and the energy in the locker room was high. Azzi, Y/N, Paige, and KK were all locked in, determined to make their mark against a team known for its fierce defense and high-scoring offense.

As the team huddled together, Coach Geno Auriemma gave them his usual pep talk, reminding them of their strengths and the importance of staying composed. But for Y/N, there was an added layer of excitement—not just for the game, but for the bond that was beginning to form with Azzi. They’d been growing closer over the last few weeks, and the connection between them was becoming impossible to ignore.

The game started with an intense pace, both teams trading baskets and playing aggressively. Azzi, as usual, was a standout—her defense was sharp, her shooting precise, and she was leading the charge. But Y/N wasn’t far behind. They were playing with a confidence that had grown stronger with each passing game, making crucial shots and setting up their teammates with perfect assists.

In the first half, UConn had the lead, but Iowa was relentless. Their star player, Caitlin Clark, was lighting up the scoreboard, and UConn was struggling to keep up with her. The Huskies’ defense was getting tested like never before, and it was clear that this game was going to come down to the wire.

Azzi and Y/N were always near each other on the court, constantly communicating through eye contact and quick gestures. Their chemistry was undeniable, and the more they played together, the more they seemed to anticipate each other’s moves.

With the game tied and just minutes left, the tension in the air was palpable. The crowd was on the edge of their seats as UConn fought to hold off Iowa’s final push. Y/N was at the top of the key, waiting for the ball. Azzi, on the other side, was creating space with her usual quick cuts. When Y/N caught the ball, they saw Azzi’s movement and immediately passed it to her, giving Azzi the perfect shot to take the game into UConn’s favor.

Azzi drained the shot, and the crowd erupted. UConn had the lead with only seconds left on the clock.

______________________________________________________________________

The final buzzer sounded, and UConn had done it—they had beaten Iowa in a thrilling, back-and-forth game. The players spilled onto the court, celebrating their hard-earned victory. Paige, KK, and the rest of the team surrounded Azzi, high-fiving and shouting in excitement. But Azzi’s eyes immediately found Y/N in the crowd of teammates. Without a second thought, she made her way toward them, her heart racing from the adrenaline of the game and the sheer joy of the win.

Y/N was already smiling, their eyes locked onto Azzi as she approached. As soon as she was within reach, Azzi wrapped her arms around them, pulling them into a tight hug.

“You were incredible today,” Azzi said, her voice full of admiration. Her hands lingered on Y/N’s back, her touch lingering just a little longer than it should have. Y/N could feel their heart beat faster at the closeness.

Y/N laughed softly, brushing their hand against Azzi’s arm. “We were a team out there. You nailed that shot.”

Azzi grinned, her face flushed from the heat of the game and the joy of victory. She leaned in slightly, her lips brushing Y/N’s ear as she whispered, “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

In that moment, with the roar of the crowd still in the background, Azzi’s lips found Y/N’s, pressing a soft, quick kiss against them. The action wasn’t for anyone else; it wasn’t a display for the cameras. It was a moment between two people who had been building something special. A quiet declaration of how much they meant to each other, even in the chaos of competition.

Y/N pulled back slightly, their eyes searching Azzi’s. “I didn’t expect that” they whispered, their voice teasing but full of affection.

Azzi smiled, her fingers tracing the edge of Y/N’s jaw. “What? You thought I’d wait?”

Y/N chuckled, stepping a little closer, their breath mixing with Azzi’s. “I guess not.”

______________________________________________________________________

The locker room was filled with the sounds of laughter and chatter as the team celebrated their victory. Paige and KK were joking around, and Coach Auriemma was offering his praise, though his tone remained firm, reminding them that the season wasn’t over yet.

Azzi and Y/N found themselves in the middle of the celebration, but they couldn’t help stealing glances at each other, their connection undeniable. Between the high-fives and the cheers, they found themselves inching closer again, quietly finding moments to touch—whether it was brushing hands, a brief arm around the shoulder, or a shared smile. The tension that had been building for weeks was finally starting to shift into something more comfortable, more real.

As the noise of the celebration continued, Y/N leaned toward Azzi, speaking in a low voice so no one else could hear. “You know, this season’s going to be unforgettable.”

Azzi nodded, her gaze intense but soft. “Yeah. And I’m glad I get to share it with you.”

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade away. It wasn’t about the game. It wasn’t about the championship they were chasing. It was about the quiet bond that had grown between them, something that neither was ready to fully define but something that both of them knew was going to be a big part of this journey.

______________________________________________________________________

Later that evening, after the celebrations had died down and the team was heading back to the hotel, Azzi and Y/N walked side by side, the city lights casting long shadows in front of them. The hustle and bustle of the streets seemed far away compared to the quiet moments they shared.

As they approached the hotel entrance, Y/N glanced at Azzi. “Hey, you want to grab a late-night snack?”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “You just want an excuse to spend more time with me, don’t you?”

Y/N grinned, their heart swelling with affection. “Maybe. Is that a problem?”

Azzi’s smile widened. “Not at all.”

They entered the hotel together, already anticipating the quiet of the night ahead and whatever came next, both on and off the court.

As the season continued, they knew that no matter what challenges they faced, they had each other to rely on—not just as teammates, but as something more.

“Together, Always”

With each passing day, Azzi and Y/N’s bond deepened. The season was long, and the games would only get harder, but they were ready for whatever came their way—both on the court and in the moments they would continue to share.

______________________________________________________________________

The holiday season had arrived, and with it, the much-needed Christmas break. UConn had a short window to rest before the next big stretch of games, and the players were grateful for the time to recharge. Azzi Fudd and Y/N, however, found themselves struggling to stay away from basketball for too long. The gym was quiet, but both were there, sneaking in extra workouts when the rest of the team took a break.

Even though they were in a festive mood, with Christmas lights twinkling outside and a blanket of snow covering the campus, there was a warmth between Azzi and Y/N that hadn’t been there before. The connection between them had grown beyond their teammates’ bond—there was something undeniably special blossoming in the spaces between their stolen glances and the quiet moments they shared.

______________________________________________________________________

It was Christmas Eve, and while most of the team had already left for the break, Azzi and Y/N had stayed behind to finish up some last-minute drills. The gym was almost empty, save for a few coaches doing their final rounds, and the quiet hum of the lights overhead.

Azzi was practicing her shots from the three-point line, her form smooth and fluid. Y/N was at the other end of the court, dribbling and running drills, but they kept stealing glances at Azzi, their focus momentarily slipping.

“Focus, Y/N!” Azzi called out with a smirk, her voice echoing off the empty walls.

Y/N rolled their eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “I’m focusing” they shot back playfully, dribbling the ball harder.

Azzi, sensing a playful challenge, tossed the ball toward Y/N. “Let’s see who can make more shots in five minutes.”

Y/N caught the ball and immediately shot it back, grinning. “You’re on.”

The next five minutes were filled with rapid shots, quick passes, and laughter. Azzi’s competitiveness was infectious, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel energized by her presence. Every time Azzi made a shot, she flashed a quick, teasing smile at Y/N, and every time Y/N managed to sink one of their own, they exchanged a playful challenge.

In the final moments of their competition, Y/N found themselves at the top of the key, setting up for one last shot. As they focused on the hoop, they heard Azzi’s voice behind them, playful yet sincere.

“You know, you’re kind of ruining my perfect streak here.”

Y/N grinned without turning, speaking just loud enough for Azzi to hear. “Better get used to it then.”

With that, Y/N made the final shot, and they couldn’t help but do a small victory dance. Azzi rolled her eyes, laughing, but then moved toward Y/N, standing just a few inches away.

“You win this time” Azzi said, her voice low and teasing.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at the proximity, and they couldn’t stop the smile that spread across their face. “Only because you let me.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, her gaze softening. “Is that so?”

Without warning, Azzi reached out and pulled Y/N into a brief but intimate hug, her arms wrapping around them. It was a rare moment of vulnerability, the warmth of Azzi’s body pressed against theirs, and the world outside the gym felt far away. Y/N didn’t pull away; instead, they leaned into the hug, savoring the quiet connection between them.

As Azzi pulled back slightly, she placed a gentle kiss on Y/N’s forehead, the soft pressure sending a shiver down Y/N’s spine. The feeling lingered, and for a moment, the only sound was their shared breaths.

After their practice session, both Azzi and Y/N decided to take a break from the team activities and spend Christmas Eve together. Y/N had invited Azzi over to their apartment for a quiet evening, away from the usual hustle and bustle of team life.

The small apartment was cozy, decorated with string lights and a Christmas tree in the corner. Y/N had prepared dinner—a homemade pasta dish—and the warm, comforting aroma filled the space.

Azzi kicked off her sneakers and sat on the couch, her eyes scanning the room. “This is nice. You’ve really got a vibe going on here.”

Y/N laughed, setting the plates down on the table. “Thanks. It’s just a little apartment, but I like it.”

Azzi smiled, looking over at Y/N with something soft in her eyes. “I like it too. Feels like home.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered at the words, and they felt a warmth settle in their chest. They sat down next to Azzi, their legs brushing. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The hum of Christmas music played softly in the background as the two of them sat in companionable silence, simply enjoying each other’s presence.

Azzi looked over at Y/N, her eyes thoughtful. “You know, I didn’t think I’d spend Christmas like this—just the two of us.”

Y/N chuckled, nudging Azzi lightly. “Yeah? You didn’t think I’d drag you into my low-key Christmas plans?”

Azzi grinned. “I’m glad you did. It’s… nice. Honestly, I haven’t had a Christmas like this in a long time.”

Y/N paused, looking at Azzi carefully. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Azzi’s smile softened, and she reached for Y/N’s hand, their fingers intertwining. It was a quiet gesture, but it felt significant—a small yet intimate connection between the two of them that spoke volumes.

After dinner, Azzi and Y/N went outside to get some fresh air, stepping onto the balcony of Y/N’s apartment. The night was cold, but the Christmas lights on the nearby buildings created a soft, warm glow.

Azzi wrapped her arms around herself, trying to stay warm, and Y/N moved closer, instinctively pulling her into a hug.

“Cold out here, huh?” Y/N asked, their breath visible in the chilly air.

Azzi nodded, leaning into the warmth of Y/N’s body. “A little, but this is nice. You’re nice.”

Y/N felt their heart skip a beat. “I’m glad you think so.”

Azzi shifted slightly, her face turning toward Y/N’s. The way she looked at them, her eyes soft yet intense, sent a spark of warmth straight through Y/N. Before Y/N could say anything, Azzi leaned in, her lips brushing softly against Y/N’s in a gentle kiss.

The kiss was slow and tender, like something that had been building up for far too long. It was full of quiet affection, a Christmas gift neither of them had expected but both needed. Azzi’s lips lingered against Y/N’s for just a moment longer, the world outside fading away as they shared the moment.

When they pulled back, Azzi smiled, her face flushed in the cool night air. “Merry Christmas, Y/N,” she whispered.

“Merry Christmas, Azzi” Y/N replied, their voice thick with emotion.

In that quiet, cozy space, beneath the glow of Christmas lights and the warmth of their connection, they knew that whatever came next—whatever challenges the season would throw their way—they had each other. And that, for now, was all that mattered.

______________________________________________________________________

As Christmas break came to an end and the New Year approached, Azzi and Y/N found themselves even more inseparable. Their bond was no longer just about basketball—it was about the quiet moments, the shared glances, and the way they made each other feel seen.

As they prepared for the next phase of the season, they knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together—on the court and off. The chemistry between them, both in basketball and in life, had only just begun to unfold, and it was clear that the season would be unforgettable, not just for their victories but for the love that was growing between them.

______________________________________________________________________

The excitement was palpable as the start of March Madness approached. UConn had made it to the Final Four, a feat that was no surprise to anyone who followed women’s basketball, but for Azzi Fudd and Y/N, it felt like a dream that had been slowly taking shape for months. The team had worked tirelessly, each player pushing themselves to new limits. And now, here they were, one step away from the national championship.

The buzz around the team was electric. Coach Geno Auriemma kept the mood light, but everyone knew that the stakes were higher than ever. UConn’s first game of the Final Four would be against a talented team that had been gaining momentum all season. The pressure was on, but the players were focused and ready. Azzi and Y/N, in particular, had been inseparable, both on and off the court. Their bond was stronger than ever, and there was a quiet sense of excitement when they looked at each other—something more than just basketball.

It was the night before the big game. The team had a light practice session to stay sharp, and the tension was building. Azzi and Y/N were staying in a hotel, the team scattered in different rooms as they prepared for the challenge ahead. But even amidst the pressure, there was an undeniable sense of calm between them.

They found themselves alone for a rare moment, sitting side by side in a small lounge area in the hotel. The rest of the team was either resting or preparing mentally for the game, but Azzi and Y/N had decided to take a few minutes to themselves.

Azzi, dressed in her UConn hoodie and sweatpants, leaned back in her chair, her feet tucked under her as she sipped on a bottle of water. Y/N, sitting beside her, couldn’t help but notice how at ease Azzi seemed. Her presence was calming, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of thoughts racing through their mind about the upcoming game.

“You ready for tomorrow?” Y/N asked softly, glancing at Azzi.

Azzi smiled, her eyes catching the light from the nearby lamp. “As ready as I’ll ever be. But, I think the real question is, are you ready?”

Y/N chuckled, shaking their head. “Oh, I’ve been ready for this moment since we made it to the tournament. It’s just… crazy, you know? One step away from the championship.”

Azzi nodded, her expression turning more serious. “Yeah, but we can’t think too far ahead. We’ve got to focus on the game at hand. We’ve worked so hard for this moment. And we’ve got this.”

The confidence in Azzi’s voice made Y/N’s heart swell. It was impossible not to believe in her—Azzi had always been the one to lift others up when the pressure mounted. But this time, Y/N wanted to lift her up.

Y/N leaned over, their hand brushing against Azzi’s. The gesture was subtle, but it was enough to send a wave of warmth through both of them. They looked at each other, eyes locking for a long moment.

Azzi gave them a soft smile, her fingers lightly tracing the back of Y/N’s hand. “You’ve been the best teammate I could ask for,” she whispered, her voice low.

Y/N felt a rush of emotion at the words. “I couldn’t do it without you,” they replied.

For a long second, neither of them said anything. The weight of their connection hung in the air, and it felt like everything around them—the upcoming game, the pressure, the noise—didn’t matter as long as they had each other.

Azzi’s lips parted slightly, and before Y/N could stop themselves, they leaned in, brushing their lips gently against Azzi’s. It was a kiss that spoke volumes—quiet, tender, and filled with unspoken promises.

Azzi’s arms wrapped around Y/N’s neck, pulling them closer as the kiss deepened. It was a moment of vulnerability, of love, away from the world of basketball and the expectations that came with it. For those few moments, there was no championship to chase, no opponents to face. There was only Azzi and Y/N—two people, lost in the quiet intimacy they had shared.

When they finally pulled back, both were breathing a little faster, eyes lingering on each other.

“I love you” Azzi whispered, her forehead resting gently against Y/N’s.

Y/N smiled softly, their hand finding Azzi’s. “I love you too”

______________________________________________________________________

The next day, the tension in the arena was palpable. The crowd was filled with energy, anticipation hanging thick in the air. UConn was about to face Stanford in the Final Four, and both teams knew what was on the line. The players had been through countless practices and countless games, but nothing could quite prepare them for the intensity of this match.

Azzi was in her element as usual, moving across the court with confidence and grace. Y/N, equally locked in, fed off Azzi’s energy, pushing themselves to be the best they could be. The game was a back-and-forth battle, with both teams showcasing their strengths.

It was an emotional roller coaster. Stanford had some of the best shooters in the country, but UConn’s defense, led by Azzi and Y/N, was relentless. Paige Bueckers was her usual self—creative, dynamic, and constantly putting pressure on the defense—but it was the bond between Azzi and Y/N that truly stood out. Their connection was unspoken, intuitive. Azzi would catch Y/N’s eyes across the court, and they knew exactly where to pass, exactly when to cut.

As the game neared its climax, the score was tied. There were only seconds left on the clock. The crowd was roaring with anticipation, and Coach Auriemma was giving the final instructions to his team.

Azzi dribbled the ball to the top of the key, where she was quickly surrounded by Stanford defenders. But she knew exactly where Y/N would be, cutting toward the basket with perfect timing.

With one swift motion, Azzi passed the ball. Y/N caught it, squared up, and released the shot—a clean, beautiful arc that flew through the air.

The buzzer rang, and the ball swished through the net.

UConn had won.

The arena erupted in cheers as the players rushed to each other, jumping and screaming in excitement. It was a hard-fought battle, but UConn had done it—they had made it to the national championship.

Azzi and Y/N found each other in the chaos, and for a moment, the entire world seemed to fade away. The celebration was still going on around them, but all they could focus on was each other.

Y/N reached for Azzi, pulling her into a tight embrace. Azzi laughed, her face glowing with the thrill of victory.

“We did it” Azzi said, her voice thick with emotion. “We really did it.”

Y/N smiled, their fingers gently brushing the back of Azzi’s neck. “We’re not done yet.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Oh, I know. We’ve got a championship to win.”

But before the moment could end, Y/N leaned in, their lips meeting Azzi’s in a soft, celebratory kiss. It was a kiss full of joy, full of love, full of everything they had worked for. And as the crowd continued to cheer, the two of them shared a moment of quiet victory, knowing that no matter what happened in the championship, they had each other.

The championship was within reach, but for now, they were content. They had made it this far, and nothing—nothing—could take away the bond they had created along the way.

As the team celebrated in the locker room, the countdown to the final game began. But Y/N and Azzi knew that no matter what, they were already winners. They had each other, and that was worth more than any trophy. The championship game would come soon enough, but for now, they had their moment—a moment to remember for the rest of their lives.

______________________________________________________________________

The national championship game was finally here. After weeks of preparation, sweat, and sacrifices, UConn had made it to the final stage of March Madness, and the stakes couldn’t have been higher. They were facing a powerhouse team in the finals, but no one doubted for a second that UConn had what it took to take home the title.

Azzi Fudd, Y/N, Paige Bueckers, and KK Arnold were all locked in, their chemistry undeniable. As they walked onto the court for warm-ups, there was a quiet confidence about the team. They had made it this far, and now, it was time to finish what they had started.

______________________________________________________________________

Back in the locker room, the mood was a mix of nerves and excitement. Coach Auriemma paced back and forth, talking strategy with the team. He was a master at keeping his players focused while also reminding them of their capabilities.

Azzi sat next to Y/N, both of them tying their shoes, occasionally sharing glances with each other. Paige, sitting across from them, caught their eyes and gave them a playful wink.

“You two are going to have to stop making eyes at each other” Paige teased. “We’ve got a game to win, you know?”

Y/N smiled and leaned into Azzi’s side. “I can’t help it, Paige. She’s distracting.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a sly grin. “I’m not the only one who’s distracting. Look at KK over there, talking to the water bottle like it’s her best friend.”

KK, who had been deep in concentration, looked up at the teasing and laughed. “Hey, hydration is important. Don’t mock my pre-game routine!”

The entire locker room erupted in laughter, the tension momentarily lifted by the lightheartedness.

Paige’s eyes softened as she turned to Y/N and Azzi. “Seriously though, you two have been amazing together this season. I’m proud of both of you.”

“Thanks, Paige” Y/N said, their smile genuine. “We’ve got this. We’ve been through too much to let it slip now.”

Azzi nodded, her expression determined. “We’re finishing what we started. Let’s get this win.”

______________________________________________________________________

The game was a battle from the first whistle. South Carolina came out strong, and the first few minutes were filled with aggressive plays from both sides. Azzi and Y/N were playing their best, moving fluidly across the court and communicating without speaking. Every pass, every screen, every shot felt perfectly orchestrated, like a well-rehearsed routine.

Paige, as always, was a force, using her quick thinking to find gaps in the defense. KK, ever the spark plug, was everywhere—making hustle plays, diving for loose balls, and pushing the pace. It was a team effort, and they were all in sync.

Azzi had the ball near the top of the key, looking for an opening. Y/N, setting a screen for her, flashed to the basket, knowing exactly what was coming next. Azzi made a quick pass, and Y/N caught the ball mid-air and finished with a beautiful layup.

Paige clapped and shouted from the sidelines, “That’s the way to do it!”

KK ran up to them, high-fiving both Azzi and Y/N. “I love how you two are in sync! Keep it up.”

As the game wore on, the intensity only grew. South Carolina’s defense was relentless, and the score remained tight. With just under two minutes left in the game, UConn was up by only three points. The atmosphere was electric—every possession mattered.

Coach Auriemma called a timeout to regroup the team, and the players huddled around him.

“Listen,” Coach said firmly, looking each player in the eye, “this is what we’ve trained for. We are the best when we play together. Stay calm. Trust each other.”

Azzi, Y/N, Paige, and KK exchanged looks of determination. There was no way they were going to let this moment slip away. It was time to finish the job.

______________________________________________________________________

The crowd held its breath as the final seconds ticked down. With only 10 seconds left, the ball was in Azzi’s hands. She dribbled up the court, eyes scanning the defense. Y/N, positioned on the wing, made a sharp cut toward the basket, signaling to Azzi that they were ready.

Azzi saw it. With the defense collapsing around her, she passed the ball to Y/N. Y/N caught it cleanly and, with a quick pump fake, got their defender in the air. The clock was winding down, and with a quick move, Y/N pulled up for a jump shot from the elbow.

The ball soared through the air.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still.

And then, it swished through the net.

The crowd went wild. UConn had done it. The game was over. They were the national champions.

The moment the buzzer sounded, the UConn players erupted in celebration. They had won the national championship, and it was a feeling like no other. Teammates hugged, jumped, and screamed in joy.

Azzi and Y/N found each other in the chaos, instantly wrapping their arms around one another. They both laughed, out of breath, and their faces lit up with pure happiness.

“We did it” Azzi said, her voice shaky with emotion. “We really did it.”

Y/N smiled, their heart racing. “We did. And we did it together.”

Azzi pulled them close, her lips meeting Y/N’s in a kiss that was both tender and passionate. It was a moment they would remember forever, not just because of the championship, but because it was theirs.

Paige, KK, and the rest of the team cheered around them, but for a few moments, it was just Azzi and Y/N—two players who had come together to achieve something incredible, who had faced every obstacle and overcome it, and now stood on top of the basketball world.

As they pulled away, Y/N rested their forehead against Azzi’s. “I love you.”

Azzi smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair out of Y/N’s face. “I love you too.”

Paige walked up to them, her eyes shining with pride. “You two are unstoppable. So happy for you both.”

KK joined in, giving them both a high-five. “Champions! You guys deserve this.”

Azzi grinned at Y/N, her fingers lacing through theirs. “We all deserve this. But this is just the beginning.”

With that, the UConn team celebrated their victory together, knowing that they had earned their place in history. And for Azzi and Y/N, this championship was more than just a win—it was the start of their future, both on and off the court.

The championship was over, but the bond between Azzi and Y/N was just beginning. They had achieved everything they had set out to do—together. As they stood there, surrounded by their teammates, they knew that this moment would be the first of many they would share as a team, as a couple, and as champions.

With the victory behind them, they were ready for whatever came next.

Or maybe they weren’t…

______________________________________________________________________

The days in UConn were slipping by quickly, the final stretch of the season creeping ever closer. Y/N had been playing the best basketball of their life, impressing coaches, teammates, and scouts alike. But as much as they loved their time at UConn, there was an undeniable feeling that a new chapter was waiting for them.

It had come from a conversation that had started with an unexpected email. A contract offer.

One morning, after practice, Y/N sat in their dorm room, staring at the email in disbelief. It was from Basket Landes, one of the top professional teams in France. They had watched Y/N play all season and, after much consideration, wanted them to join their roster. The offer was a dream come true, and the idea of taking their career to the next level in France was tempting. Especially if they can reach the international stage after that.

Y/N’s excitement was tempered by the weight of what they had just signed: a contract with Basket Landes. They had made the decision with the best intentions, believing it would be the next step for their career. But telling Azzi about it had been harder than expected.

When Y/N first shared the news with her, they’d hoped for a reaction of support, pride, and excitement. But instead, the conversation felt strained, and Azzi’s voice held an undercurrent of sadness that Y/N couldn’t ignore.

“You’re really going? To France?” Azzi asked, her tone flat, as if the shock of it all had hit her like a freight train.

“Azzi, I know this is sudden. I just… it’s a huge opportunity for me” Y/N said, trying to explain, but their words fell short.

Azzi paused, taking in the news. “I get that, but… we’re just supposed to be doing this together, right? I didn’t think we’d be so far apart.”

The words hung heavy in the air between them. Y/N could hear the hurt in Azzi’s voice. It wasn’t that Azzi didn’t want them to chase their dreams, but the distance felt impossible to ignore.

“I’m sorry” Y/N whispered, feeling guilty for the sudden separation.

The conversation drifted, and despite the promises to make it work, there was a sense of unresolved tension. As the days passed, the couple barely spoke, the distance not just geographical but emotional, too.

Y/N buried themselves in the intensity of life with Basket Landes, practicing hard and trying to adjust to their new routine. But there was a constant ache in their chest, a feeling that something was missing.

______________________________________________________________________

A month passed, and though life in France was busy and exciting, Y/N couldn’t shake the distance between them and Azzi. Azzi had stopped reaching out as much. The texts were sparse, and when they did speak, the conversations felt forced. Both of them had retreated into their own worlds, unsure of what came next.

One evening, during a team dinner at Basket Landes, Yohana Ewodo nudged Y/N playfully. “You look like someone just broke your heart. What’s going on?”

Y/N gave a faint smile, but it didn’t reach their eyes. “It’s nothing, just… trying to adjust here, you know?”

Sixtine Macquet raised an eyebrow. “Adjusting, huh? Or is it something else?”

Y/N sighed, setting down their fork. “I miss her. Azzi and I… we’re not talking much lately.”

Clarince Djaldi-Tabdi looked sympathetic. “That sucks, honestly. But hey, you’ve got us here, and we’re not going anywhere.”

Marie Pardon gave a knowing smile. “And when Azzi visits, I’m sure we’ll all get to hear about how ‘whipped’ you are. I mean, the way you talk about her…” she teased, making Y/N blush.

Yohana laughed. “Yeah, we know you’re all about that Azzi life. But we get it. Relationships are hard when you’re this far away.”

Just when Y/N thought they couldn’t stand the distance any longer, a message from Azzi popped up on their phone. It had been a week since their last conversation, and Y/N had been growing increasingly frustrated and confused about where they stood.

Azzi’s message was simple: “I’ve been thinking a lot. I miss you. Can we talk?”

Y/N’s heart raced. After weeks of silence and a painful month of uncertainty, Azzi was reaching out. They quickly typed out a response. “Yes, please. I miss you too. Let’s talk.”

The call came a few hours later, and when Azzi’s face appeared on the screen, it felt like a weight had been lifted.

“I’m sorry, Y/N” Azzi started, her voice quieter than usual. “I didn’t handle this well. I was hurt, and I let that get in the way of us. But I’ve realized that I don’t want to lose you over something like this. I love you.”

Y/N exhaled, feeling relief flood through them. “I love you too, Azzi. I never wanted to hurt you. I just… I had to do this for myself. I didn’t want us to drift, but I wasn’t sure what else to do.”

Azzi smiled softly. “I get it. And I’m proud of you. I just didn’t know how to handle the distance. But now… I want to work through it. Together.”

They both sat in silence for a moment, taking it all in. There was still a lot of distance between them—physically, emotionally—but the connection that had once brought them together was still there.

“I’m flying out to see you soon,” Azzi said suddenly, her eyes lighting up. “I’m not letting this go. I want to be there for you. For us.”

Y/N grinned, their heart swelling. “I can’t wait.”

______________________________________________________________________

A few weeks later, Azzi arrived in France to watch Y/N’s game for Basket Landes. Her visit was like a balm to Y/N’s soul, and the moment they locked eyes at the airport, it was as if all the tension, all the uncertainty, melted away.

After the game, as the team celebrated the win, Azzi stood off to the side, waiting for Y/N. The moment they caught sight of each other, Y/N ran across the court, dropping their bag and wrapping their arms around Azzi in a tight hug.

“Missed you so much,” Y/N whispered, their voice thick with emotion.

Azzi pulled back slightly, her hands cupping Y/N’s face. “I missed you too. I’m so proud of you. You’re killing it here.”

The team watched from a distance, grinning at the PDA. Yohana leaned over to Sixtine and whispered, “Looks like they’ve got it all figured out now, huh?”

Sixtine nodded, smirking. “I knew it was just a matter of time before they’d be all over each other again. It’s hard to stay mad when you love someone that much.”

The girls of Basket Landes exchanged knowing glances as Y/N and Azzi shared a soft kiss before turning to join the team.

“Alright, alright, lovebirds,” Marie teased, “Save some of that for later. We’ve got a game to celebrate, and we all know how whipped you are, Y/N.”

Y/N laughed, rolling their eyes. “You guys are impossible.”

Luisa Geiselsöder joined in. “But you’re so cute together, we can’t help it. Glad to see you two worked things out.”

Y/N smiled, the warmth of their teammates surrounding them. It felt like a weight had been lifted—not just from their relationship with Azzi, but from the pressure of trying to balance a new life in France with their own ambitions.

As they walked off the court, hand-in-hand with Azzi, Y/N felt a renewed sense of peace. Despite the challenges and the uncertainty, they knew they would make it work. They had each other, and that was enough.

In that moment, everything felt right again.

______________________________________________________________________

The months in Basket Landes had been nothing short of magical. Y/N had found their stride, playing alongside a team that was as close as family. The first season in France had been a whirlwind of highs and lows, but it was capped off with something they had always dreamed of: a championship win.

The win was a testament to their hard work, dedication, and the support from their teammates, like Myriam Djekoundade, Clarince, Luisa, and Leila Lacan, all of whom had become not just teammates but true friends.

But just when they thought life couldn’t get any better, another surprise came their way.

It was a typical day of practice when their phone buzzed with an email notification. At first, Y/N barely glanced at it, thinking it was just another team update or a sponsor’s message. But then they saw the subject line: “France National Team – Olympic Call-Up”.

Their heart skipped a beat as they clicked open the email. The French national team had officially called them up for the Olympics.

Y/N froze, staring at the screen in disbelief. This was the opportunity of a lifetime—something they had dreamed of since they were a child. But even now, with the offer in front of them, they couldn’t quite process it. They had just finished a fantastic season with Basket Landes, and now the Olympics? It felt like a dream.

Y/N couldn’t contain their excitement, and they rushed to find Azzi, who was finishing up a workout in the gym.

“Azzi! Azzi, I got called up!” Y/N practically yelled as they burst through the door.

Azzi looked up in surprise, eyes widening as she took in Y/N’s excited expression. “Called up? For what? What are you talking about?”

“The French national team, Azzi!” Y/N couldn’t stop grinning. “They’ve asked me to join them for the Olympics!”

Azzi’s jaw dropped, and then a wide smile spread across her face. She crossed the room in seconds, pulling Y/N into a tight hug. “Oh my god, babe, this is huge! I’m so proud of you!”

Tears welled up in Y/N’s eyes as they held onto Azzi. “I can’t believe it. This is everything I’ve worked for. And now it’s happening.”

Azzi pulled back, her smile softening. “You deserve this. You’ve worked so hard, and I’m so happy for you.”

Y/N looked into Azzi’s eyes, feeling an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Azzi. You’ve been my rock through all of this. I’m going to make you proud.”

Azzi kissed their forehead, a tender gesture. “You already have.”

______________________________________________________________________

As the news spread among their Basket Landes teammates, the teasing and excitement began. Everyone was thrilled for Y/N, but they couldn’t resist poking fun at how far their star player had come.

“You’ve really made it now, huh?” Destiny Slocum teased, giving Y/N a playful nudge as they walked into the locker room. “First a championship, now the Olympics? What’s next, a statue?”

Y/N laughed, rolling their eyes. “Come on, guys. It’s just a call-up. Still gotta prove myself.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Louise Bussière chimed in, “We all know you’re going to crush it. Don’t forget us when you’re rubbing elbows with all those famous players.”

Sixtine leaned in, smirking. “Don’t worry, Y/N. We know you’ll still have time for us when you’re an Olympic gold medalist.”

Yohana added with a grin, “Just don’t forget to bring us all some Olympic swag when you’re there, alright?”

Y/N chuckled, shaking their head. “I’ll bring you all back something. But first, I need to survive this training camp.”

As the teasing continued, Y/N couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Basket Landes had become home, and these women were more than teammates—they were family. Their support meant the world.

Later that evening, after a celebratory dinner with the team, Y/N and Azzi walked back to Y/N’s apartment together. The excitement was still buzzing in the air, but there was a quiet, intimate moment between the two of them as they settled on the couch.

“You’re going to be amazing in the Olympics, Y/N,” Azzi said, her voice full of pride. “I’m so happy for you.”

Y/N leaned in, cupping Azzi’s face. “I couldn’t have gotten this far without you. You were always there, supporting me, even when things were tough.”

Azzi smiled, her eyes soft. “And I’ll be there when you bring home that gold medal.”

Y/N kissed her softly, the tender moment wrapping around them like a warm blanket. The uncertainty, the distance, the challenges—they had all faded into the background. This was their moment.

“I’ll miss you when I’m away” Y/N whispered against Azzi’s lips.

“I’ll be cheering you on every second,” Azzi murmured, pulling Y/N closer. “And when you get back, we’ll celebrate together. I promise.”

______________________________________________________________________

As Y/N packed their bags for the Olympic training camp, their Basket Landes teammates rallied around them one last time, offering their congratulations and support. Marie and Clarince gave Y/N a big hug before they left.

“We’re so proud of you. Go out there and show them what you’ve got,” Clarince said, her voice full of emotion.

“Don’t forget us little people when you’re an Olympic star,” Marie teased, but there was nothing but sincerity in her words.

Y/N laughed, feeling the love from their teammates. “I’ll never forget you guys. You’re all a part of this.”

______________________________________________________________________

As Y/N boarded the plane for the Olympic training camp, they felt a mixture of nerves and excitement. The journey was just beginning, but everything they had worked for was within their reach.

And through it all, they knew one thing for certain: they had Azzi by their side, cheering them on every step of the way.

This was their dream, and nothing—absolutely nothing—was going to stop them from reaching it.

______________________________________________________________________

The Olympic Games had been a whirlwind of highs and lows for Y/N. After months of grueling preparation, the time had finally arrived for their team to play in the gold medal final against the mighty USA. The Arena de Paris was filled to the brim with fans cheering for France, and Y/N, now a key member of the team, could feel the weight of the moment. The crowd’s energy was electric, but they were focused. They had trained for this. Every drill, every practice, every sacrifice had led to this game.

Azzi, KK, Paige, and the entire Basket Landes team had flown in to see Y/N play, standing by the sidelines, ready to show their unwavering support. The weight of the moment didn’t go unnoticed by Y/N, especially knowing that they weren’t alone in this journey. The love and support from Azzi made everything seem possible.

______________________________________________________________________

The final was intense—USA and France battled relentlessly, with both teams showcasing their immense talent. Y/N played a phenomenal game, as did Leila, who had also been called up to the Olympic team. But with only seconds left on the clock, it was clear that the game was slipping from their grasp. The score stood at USA 67, France 66 as the final buzzer sounded. A wave of disappointment swept over the team, as they realized they had fallen just short of winning the gold.

For a moment, Y/N stood frozen on the court, feeling the weight of the loss. Their teammates were already gathered, trying to console each other, but Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling of missing something that had meant so much. As they walked off the court, their gaze met Azzi’s from the stands. Azzi gave a small, reassuring smile, her eyes saying everything that words could not. There was pride in her gaze, and she would be there to support them no matter the outcome.

After the game, as emotions ran high, Sabrina Ionescu walked over to Y/N, the player from the USA team, who had played an incredible match. As they stood by the locker room, Sabrina spoke up. “Hey, you played amazing out there. You deserve this,” she said, offering a genuine smile. “I’d love to swap jerseys with you if you’re up for it.”

Y/N smiled, a mix of emotions swirling within them. “It’d be an honor.”

They exchanged jerseys—Y/N now holding the USA jersey, a symbol of the fierce competition they had just fought—and for Sabrina, receiving the France jersey from one of the brightest stars in the game.

______________________________________________________________________

After the Olympics ended, Y/N and their teammates flew back to their lovely town. Though the sting of the loss was still fresh, the pride they felt in earning silver was undeniable. Luisa, who had also played brilliantly throughout the tournament, had secured the third-place medal for Germany, and Y/N together with Leila (who contributed immensely), they celebrated their collective success.

But what awaited Y/N at the apartment wasn’t just the quiet reflection of their Olympic journey—it was a celebration of what they had accomplished, and they were about to be surrounded by the people who had supported them all along: Azzi, Paige, KK, and the girls from Basket Landes.

The door swung open, and the first thing Y/N heard was a chorus of cheers. “Surprise!” Louise and Sixtine grinned as they popped open bottles of champagne. “We’re here to celebrate—Olympic silver is no small feat!”

Y/N grinned, feeling a surge of warmth as Azzi wrapped their arms around them, holding them close. “You were incredible,” Azzi whispered. “I’m so proud of you. Gold or silver, you’re a champion to me.”

As the night went on, laughter filled the apartment. The Basket Landes team took it upon themselves to tease Y/N in the most loving way.

Destiny leaned in, winking. “Okay, Y/N, now that you’ve got Olympic silver, when’s the parade for us in Basket Landes? We need a celebration of our own, huh?”

The entire room erupted in laughter. Myriam playfully added, “Well, at least now you’re one step closer to having as many medals as Azzi!”

Y/N rolled their eyes, though they couldn’t help but smile. “Okay, I see what this is. I leave for a few weeks, and now you’re all turning into comedians?”

Marie laughed. “We’re just trying to remind you that we’re still the OG squad. Don’t forget who got you here!”

The banter continued, with teasing and laughter flowing freely. The support from the team was palpable, and Y/N realized just how lucky they were to be surrounded by such an amazing group of people. And then there was Azzi, who stood by them through it all—celebrating the victories, comforting in the losses, and always showing love.

______________________________________________________________________

As the evening wore on, the celebration became more intimate. Azzi and Y/N found a quiet corner of the apartment, away from the noise of the party.

“Come here, you,” Azzi whispered, pulling Y/N close. Their lips met in a soft, lingering kiss, and for a moment, the world outside faded. It was just the two of them, holding onto each other, letting the love they shared heal the sting of defeat.

“I’m so proud of you,” Azzi murmured against Y/N’s lips. “This is just the beginning. I know next time we’ll get that gold.”

Y/N smiled, their heart full. “Next time,” they whispered back. “But for now, I’m just happy to be with you.”

______________________________________________________________________

As the night came to a close and the group celebrated the success of the Olympics, Y/N couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. They had earned silver at the most prestigious sporting event in the world, they had Azzi by their side, and they had an incredible team waiting for them back in Basket Landes.

Though the game had ended in defeat, Y/N knew that this was just one chapter of a much larger story. They had come so far, and there was no limit to what they could achieve next. With Azzi and the Basket Landes girls by their side, and the promise of more victories to come, Y/N felt ready for whatever the future held.

It wasn’t about the gold. It was about the journey—and the people who made it worthwhile.

The night ended with a toast to Luisa, Leila, and Y/N—the three players who had given everything for Germany and France had emerged with medals to prove it. But most importantly, it was a celebration of love, friendship, and the unbreakable bonds they had formed along the way.

[women-in-ssports]

FOREVER AND A DAY

Ch 2 TRYOUTS

Day 1

Okay ladies come line up Coach yelled

Paige POV

Paige was the first one to the line, anxiously awaiting the start of tryouts. There were a lot more girls than she thought, all fighting for a spot on just two teams. As she was looking around at all the girls she spotted, her. From some eavesdropping earlier she’s 90% sure her name is Azzi. But she’s 100% sure she’s going to be her new best friend.

AZZI POV

The first day of tryouts were skill based nothing crazy. A lot of dribbling, passing, ending with shots. The coaches said after tomorrow’s 3v3 they were going to post the round of cuts, to start separating the teams. Never cocky but Azzi didn’t think she had anything to worry about, a few of the older girls even complemented her shooting earlier. Basketball she knew, it was teammates she was nervous about. After the disaster of summer league, she didn’t want this team to end up like that one had.

Azzi wait up! Caroline yelled from across the court. Do you want to hangout for a little we were going to go to sonic across the street! Oo that’s tempting… Azzi replied. Not waiting for another word Caroline wrapped her arm around Azzi and motioned for Nika, Aubrey, Ice and the blonde Azzi saw earlier to follow.

Without missing a beat, Caroline leaned close to Azzi and said she’s a transfer sophomore from out of state, her name is Paige Madison, Libra, apparently she’s dating someone from her last school, and she seems really nice. A small snort escaped Azzi and she turned to her friend shaking her head.. Your unbelievably creepy Care. Whatever!! Like yall don’t appreciate all the information I get yall! Caroline replied nonchalantly

When they got to Sonic Azzi made her way over to the blonde! With a small wave she introduced herself.

Hi! I’m Azzi I’m a freshman!

Paige!! Nice to meet you, I’m a sophomore but only been here a week.

Oh I heard. Azzi let it slip before she covered her mouth

You heard? Huh? What you checking up on me Azzi?

Caroline just likes to talk! I also heard you’re a Libra, if you were going to hide that fact from me.

Wow can’t even keep my zodiac sign a secret. What kind of place did I transfer into?

Hopefully a good one! Azzi laughs out at the blonde.

What else do you already know about me? So I can tell you new interesting stuff?

Oh, well we got the Libra thing out of the way, you’re name is Paige Madison, you transferred in from out of state, you have a bf from your last school and apparently you’re really nice. But I’ll have to judge that nice fact as I get to know you!

Paige bursted out laughing, she couldn’t help herself. Anyone else this bold would turn her away, but something about Azzi was comforting.

Well I am nice! Thank you very much Azzi. And you got pretty much everything except I am not dating someone from my last school anymore. We broke up. (Also it was a girl but she’s not going to tell her new teammates that fact about her on their first hangout)

Oh shoot sorry! Azzi said

No need to be sorry, new beginnings are good.

I know what you mean. Azzi replied a little to knowing that caught Paige wondering if there was a story there.

Just then Nika’s hand split them, handing Paige her Shirley temple and Azzi her flavored water.

The rest of the evening little to Azzis knowledge Paige spent stealing any glance she could at the curly haired brunette. While Azzi on the other hand found herself drawn to the blonde but not knowing why.

Day 2

Paige! Azzi called wide open on the perimeter. But before she could even finish her name the ball was in her hands one second and swishing through the net the next. They played like they were one unit and everyone noticed.

Okay girls! Grab some water! Coach yelled as the buzzer went off signally the end of the scrimmage.

That was amazing! Paige yelled bouncing over the Azzi! We are going to be one dynamic due the next three years Ms. Fudd!

Yeah! Yeah, yeah. Let’s just wait to see if we make it past Day two of tryouts! Azzi replied sipping her water.

Oh no need we are making it! Paige said through her smile as she wrapped her arm around Azzi shoulder and wiped her sweat down her cheek.

Before Azzi had a chance to react, Coach was calling everyone in. Azzi shot a quick mean mug to Paige’s already waiting grin.

Alright ladies! That was one of the best Day 2 of tryouts we have had in a while. Please check the lists as you leave the gym! If your name is not on it please come back next year and keep working hard. Also note if your name is on the Varsity or Junior Varsity list for tomorrow to start seeing how our teams are going to be laid out.

Caroline scooped her arm though Azzi at the same time Nika did the same to Paige. Them four with Ice and Aubrey made their way to the JV list which they all expected to be on due to them being underclassmen. Everyone’s name was there except for Paige and Azzi. Their friends all turned to look at them.

Aubrey broke the silence first, there has to be a mistake. There is no way yall aren’t on this list! Yall did amazing out…

Nika a little less nice interrupted with a “WHAT THE FUCK! These coaches are crazy idk about them but you all deserve to be on this list with us! And I’ll go tell them!” Just as Nika went to turn she caught a glimpse of the Varsity List. No fucking way.. she whispered turning back to Azzi and Paige. Yall made Varsity…

Azzi POV

Arm in arm with Caroline she scanned the list. Her name wasn’t on it. How can this be, she did everything perfect. She played her heart out today. Her eyes scanned the paper again and again, never landing on her name. She heard Kk and Nika start talking but couldn’t bring herself to listen to what they were saying. All she could think was how was she going to tell her parents.

But before she could contemplate it anymore she felt something, no not something, someone hard hit her followed by her back hitting the floor and 3 more people jumping on her.

Paige POV

My name isn’t here. She turned as KK started talking, taking in bits of what she was saying but not fully registering anything other than her name wasn’t on the list. But then her eyes shot to Nika as she suddenly grew quiet in her screaming. Searching Nikas face she followed her gaze to the Varsity list and right below Azzis name was hers. Wait Paige’s eyes shot back to the list, below Azzis name. Azzi. She turned to face Azzi who obviously was lost in her own world and had not caught up with what was going on.

Paige’s body moved faster than her mind and within seconds she knocked Azzi to the floor and their friends had followed suit!

[art2464]

For the next few episodes it continues like normal. Winter is their big sibling, there’s no universe in which they’d do something so terrible, so Ozander and Ophia just ignore the elephant in the room whenever they’re home, they are in Hardcore denial mode.

Then something happens and Winter gets outed as Cloudweaver. Ophia immediately goes on the defensive, asking how Winter could do such an awful thing. Ozander on the other hand, is just trying to hold back tears. This is their big sibling, why would the person who pushed them both to enter into the academy be a villain?

The main question the partners ask is Why? Just why?

To which Winter tells them it’s a long story.

Cw: Child abuse, running away

Well, the best way to start this is at the beginning. You two weren’t born yet, but our mom and dad… they fought a lot, and I learned to hide in the closet. They weren’t good people, but I was young, what choice did I have.

Then you two were born, and I realized it was my job to protect you. I taught you everything I knew, how to walk, how to talk, how to avoid our parents wrath. I took the fall for you two where I could. If you broke a toy playing too rough, it was my fault. If you were too loud and it woke them up, it was my fault…

Then one day I… I overheard mom “joking” about killing us. And I realized… she could, it’s not like anyone would come looking if we stopped existing. That was the day I vowed we’d run away. It’s nothing short of a miracle we made it out before they knew we were gone.

Ophia: “Wait, why didn’t you go to the police?”

Winter: You don’t think I didn’t try? When I told them what happened they said they needed to get the second party involved. I knew what that meant and booked it before they could send us back.

Ozander: “Well what about odd squad? They would have taken us in.”

Winter: I tried odd squad. But as soon as I mentioned why we needed protections from the villains in question… they kicked us out because of our bio family.

Ozander: “Are we-?!”

Winter: “I kept on running we lived on the streets for a while. It wasn’t easy, but we were safe. I tried CPS, hell I tried every child welfare agency I heard of but no one saw past the fact that I was a child. I’d gather change on the ground and buy us a small piece of food a day. It wasn’t much but it kept us alive.

Then one day about three weeks after, I was searching for change when around the corner I saw a villain (noisemaker I think) surrounded by odd squad agents. I could have walked away but I knew he was just trying to get by, same as we were, so I kicked over a trash can giving him enough time to escape. In return for my kindness, he offered me one in return, a place to stay.

Winter was coming, things were going to get harder than they already were. So I accepted. They gave me a job, I was the diversion, and in turn for doing well, we were given a home, food and safety. When I felt safe enough to tell them about what happened, they started my training.

Ophia: what training?

They started trying to activate and then control my powers. They trained me for a few years then I was sent on missions to cause oddness. Afterward I traveled the world on business trips, creating everything from pienados to spaghetti storms.

Ozander: But why push us to get involved in odd squad, why volunteer to help so much? Wouldn’t that just increase your chances of getting caught?

Winter: I needed a backup plan, if they ever found us, and the villains couldn’t stop them… I needed you two to be safe. I need you two to stay safe, odd squad takes care of its agents, if you were agents you’d be safe.

Ozander: Who’s they? And what was that about us being related to someone odd squad doesn’t take in?

Winter: … our parents. They were the old leaders of the villains, they got kicked out pretty fast when I came forward with what happened.

Ozander: Didn’t you say they were dead? As in we have visited their graves every year for the past decade, kind of dead.

Winter: That was a lie… I didn’t want you to get curious and get hurt.

Ozander: That wouldn’t have happened!

Winter: That’s what happened here.

Ophia: Where are they now?

Winter: I’m not certain but from what I know they’re locked in a lead box, in the middle of a mountain. But I know if they ever escaped…. I try not to think about that.

Ozander: What about now?

Winter: ?

Ozander: Are you still working for the villains.

Winter: No. Remember when I had that accident? I told you I got hurt at work, not necessarily a lie but not the full truth either. On my last mission, I was out creating a massive storm, Odd Squad attacked. I got away mostly, a piece of debris had hit me. I had to get it removed and on my x-ray they found my hip impingements. One thing led to another and another and another and when I was getting fitted for crutches I realized I couldn’t do this anymore, not that they’d have let me.

I also realized that if I was going to quit, I needed to make a clean break. So I erased my information from the seamstress’s books. Sold our place, bought a new one, changed my name, transitioned and put all of my villain stuff into a box and hid it in a wall. I became someone unrecognizable to those who knew me before, who at most could say I looked familiar.

And that’s it, you know the full story now.

Ozander: That’s It?!!! That’s all you have to say for everything you’ve done?! *is standing up, yelling*

Winter: yeah. I don’t regret it, creating those storms gave us everything. I do regret all of the innocent people who got hurt as a result though.

-Miss O is knocking at the door, they’re forty minutes over the interrogation time allotment-

Ophia: Get rid of them.

Winter: What?

Ophia: If you created all of the pienados and spaghetti storms and weird weather in the world, then fix it, get rid of them.

Winter: I can’t.

Ophia: *visibly angry* why not.

Winter: I can’t create, nor destroy weather, that’s not how it works. I just channeled it, using my paintbrush to redirect it into what I wanted. I can’t get rid of them because the elements already mixxed, creating their own unique product that cannot be undone. Like mixing blue and yellow, you get a new color that cannot be separated back into just yellow and just blue. Even if I had my paintbrush with me.

- I’m not sure how I would continue that scene, but I do know that things would ramp up quickly since Cloudweaver isn’t part of the Villain union and not entitled to the benefits. I remember contemplating having them end up in a psych ward for a bit, but I wasn’t comfortable with the route that ended up on. I also considered a two time villain battle, starting with a confrontation against the Dad who’s inspired by Frantocio from Billie bust up then a follow up against the Mom who’s mood swings would play a large part in her power(s). The long term effects of that abuse on full display for Ozander and Ophia to view. The Villains and Odd squad team up to defeat them, with Winter having to pull out the paintbrush one last time to defeat them. And then that’s the end.

I made a playlist of songs that inspired it, here’s the link:

And since I’m posting this final ish part on Christmas, merry Christmas everyone.

So, if I told you all about some odd squad OC’s would you be interested? Keep in mind, I made these as a young child long before Otto and Olive got their own headquarters

[aideshou]

What an interesting life chopped champ pizza boiii has had. When he was two he fell out of a 2nd story window and a folding lawn chair saved his life, now he brings one everywhere. He also became a chopped champion and somehow ended up on my island as a summer worker.

[infictionalwonderland]

I NEED PART TWO OF THE MARVEL CAST FLIRTING WITH Y/N L/N!

. . . MARVEL CAST FLIRTING WITH Y/N Y/L/N FOR 10 MINUTES STRAIGHT! (part2)

You cackled to yourself after sending the message into your groupchat, quickly returning to the video and beginning to play it again, occasional bursts of giggles slipping through your lips.

Resuming your place in the video—the first clip that began playing was actually from not that long ago at all. It was You, Kat Dennings, Elizabeth Olsen and Zendaya at Taylor Swifts Eras Tour (an experience you would genuinely never forget). Taylor was playing Lover and, in the clip, Kat had your face in one hand and the other wrapped around your waist, bringing you close to her body.

“Lover, can I go where you go—“ Kat sang with Taylor, singing all the lyrics to you and grinning at you, faces inches away from each other. “—Can we always be this close.” She punctuated this lyric with giving you an eskimo kiss.

You smiled sincerely at the memory.

The next clip began up, it was you and Chris Evans doing Playground Insults with BBC Radio 1: the two of you were sat opposite each other, knees touching, Chris was grinning goofily at you, giddy laughs escaping him as you tried to remain straight faced.

“—we’re here with Chris Evans and Y/N Y/L/N.” The presenters introduced.

“And we’re about to play Playground Insults . . Now Chris and Y/N are sat opposite each other,” the camera cut to you and Chris, him smiling largely and you looking away to contain your own, “the atmosphere is very tense.”

“We’ve done this quite a few times now but im thinking.. this is the biggest movie of the year, let’s make this the biggest playground insults we’ve ever done.”

“Yep.” Chris nodded, trying not to laugh.

“Chris, hun. . you’re ugly. Like, plain ugly.” You nodded seriously, immediately setting off as you feigned a pained wince to the words. “Everyone’s been talking about it. . just, you’re so atrocious to look at. Honestly, I almost feel arse over tits in horror when I saw you.”

Chris opened his mouth to say something but then faltered and pouted, “no matter how good of an actor I am, I could never even get those words out my mouth about you and make them sound genuine. Seriously.”

The third clip started—it was Chris Hemsworth on a carpet, a bold colourful question at the bottom said ‘WHO HAS THE MOST FANS?’. Chris immediately said, “Y/n.” In that deep Australian accent of his. “Not that I blame the people from choosing her to be the people’s queen, she is truly one of a kind. You’ll only ever meet one Y/n in your lifetime, cherish it. The fans have the right idea.”

It changed to Scarlett with the same colourful question at screen and at the same carpet event: “Oh, Yeah. Y/n, one hundred percent.” She chuckled huskily. “That woman has fans upon fans and seriously, I’m one of them. She is something else.” She grinned, winking at the camera.

After Scarlett, Paul Rudd came onto your screen in the very same clip. “Oh! The legend herself, Y/N Y/L/N.” Paul answered brightly, smiling. “The amount of fans she has is unbelievable—well, it’s definitely believable for someone like her, so, not really unbelievable..”

The forth clip began—it was you all playing Family Feud with Jimmy Kimmel, on his live show. Sebastian and RDJ were currently facing off; Jimmy posed the question “what, other than the sun, are some of the hottest things to exist?”

Sebastian got to the buzzer faster than Robert managed to and didn’t even falter or hesitate as he answered straight away, “Y/N Y/L/N.”

The audience immediately screamed laughed and shrieked in delight, RDJ just nodded his head in understanding and appreciation, clapping his hands. Chris Evans, Mark and Anthony on the other side all looked amused but ultimately accepting (Chris was nodding along almost subconsciously). You were on the other team, looking heavenward with a faint exasperated grin and Scarlet wrapped her arm around your waist, Chris Hemsworth smirking at you both.

The fifth clip started up: it was a behind the scenes shot from Endgame, the big final battle. You were currently in the middle of doing your own stunt, green screen behind you and harnesses strapped to you as you dangled at a halfway point in the air. Your arms and hands were positioned in such a way to show your character manipulating her powers—the position also very much enhanced your chest, with the added help of your superhero attire. You looked hot, even you could admit.

The camera mirthfully panned to some of the rest of the cast who all stood aside while you filmed your scene—said cast being Chris Evans, Tom Holland, Gwyneth Paltrow, RDJ, Elizabeth Olsen and Tessa Thompson. All of their eyes were fixated on you, Robert was the only one grinning in amusement (and awe) while all the others stared at you as though you hung the sun yourself.

“Boobies.” Lizzie giggled faintly, her eyes stuck. The rest of the cast watching dumbly nodded while the crew cracked up behind the cameras.

And if you screenshotted their dumbfounded faces looking ip at on screen you. . well that was your business.

The clip changed. It was now Karen Gillan being interviewed on some carpet event, looking genuinely breathtaking. The interviewer was asking, “—obviously, your friend and co-star Y/N Y/L/N has been in lots of iconic movies. . what is your favourite scene of hers in The Wolf of Wall Street?”

Karen paused with a cheeky little smile, giving the interviewer a a jokingly incredulous look. “Come on.” She simply said. “It’s a bloody no brainer, I’m certain it was Leonardo’s favourite scene too. . I hope it is anyway otherwise he’s a silly, silly man.”

At the same carpet event with the same interviewer, Chris Hemsworth was being interviewed—his wife, Elsa, on his arm and looking half ready to battle off any rude interviewers (queen).

“—what is your favourite scene of hers in Ocean’s 8?”

“All of them!” Elsa answered eagerly, grinning. “Her outfits really accentuated her personality and I enjoyed them very much so. Particularly her outfit for the gala. . the amount of accentuated personality, by gosh, it had me speechless.”

Chris turned her head, obviously trying not to laugh at his wife.

“Nunca he estado más celoso y agradecido por la ropa en mi vida.” Elsa hummed.

You blinked.

The clip changed to you, Sebastian, Lizzie, Paul, Jeremy and Jimmy all on his Tonight Show playing Musical Beers. The slightly unnerving music/beat played in the background while you all stalked around the circle, Paul and Jeremy already out—leaving you, Seb, Lizzie and Jimmy.

As you were all racing around the circular table, Lizzie very obviously swatted your ass and you were impressed with your own body as you watched that impact: the audience erupted into laughs and shrieks, Jimmy playfully covering his eyes as Seb smirked. You thought that would be the end of the clip, but no.

The very disco-esk tune briefly cut out and past time you thought that meant it stopped completely and you’d already reached for the red cup in front of you and chugged it’s contents, only to pause as the music began back up.

“Spit it back! Spit it back!”

You did just that—but when the music actually stopped and Seb was left standing in front of the cup with your (let’s not go there) in it, your mouth popped open in shock. Jeremy gladly backed away from the table in hysterics, Lizzie and Jimmy equally as amused.

“Oh my god, I am—“

Sebastian quickly downed the cup with. . those contents, not even looking all that perturbed.

“So sorry.” You finished, mouth agape.

You vaguely remembered a conversation you’d had with him after the show, sincerely and repeatedly apologising and he was just very, very amused with you. He didn’t seem to mind at all—what an odd man.

“It’s all good.” Sebastian chuckled lowly, wrapping the mortified looking past you in a one armed shoulder hug and squeezing you to him. Lizzie seemed to be trying to trade a very obvious eye message with you—the audience shrieked and screamed in the background.

Another clip began: its was you and Scarlett Johansson doing a trust fall thing, you thought (correctly).

“Scarlett I swear. .” You giggled, looking over your shoulder at the woman behind you—she grinned back at you amusedly, her eyes twinkling.

“Calm down.” She laughed herself. “I’ll catch you don’t worry, gorgeous.”

Still slightly overcome with nervous giggles, you turned and let out a breath as you shut your eyes before holding at your arms and falling back.

And catch you she definitely did—although her hands didn’t exactly land in a PG-13 area, you cackled as you watched her hands grope at your chest to pull you up. In the video, you were also wheezing as were the crew and Scarlett had a cheeky little smirk as she laughed.

When you were finally standing, she gave one last squeeze before finally letting go—on screen you was breathless with giggles.

“Always wanted to do that.” She shrugged simply with a large amused smile.

The next clip began—it was Zendaya and Tom Holland on LADBible, playing that how much do you agree or not game. The statement said was ‘Y/N Y/L/N is everyone‘s celebrity crush’.

Instantly, Tom and Zendaya moved their cups to strongly agree, both of them nodding in solid agreement with the statement: presently, you awed at your friends, ego very much boosted. Well. To be fair, all of this video was massively boosting your ego.

“I mean, come on.” Zendaya made a ‘duh’ face and shrugged her shoulders.

“It’s Y/N.” Tom smiled crookedly, adding onto her comment.

“I am so happy I get to now say that she’s one of my closest friends.” Zendaya beamed genuinely. “She’s—one of those people whose beauty isn’t just an external thing, she’s so lovely man.” She pouted, in awe of you.

Watching the video, you beamed back at her.

The clip changed: Mark Ruffalo was on the Graham Norton show, next to Nicki Minaj and an actor you couldn’t place.

“Who would you say your favourite co-star has ever been, Mark?” Graham inquired.

“I—i would probably have to go with Y/N—“ The crowd instantly erupted into cheers and yells and Nicki smiled next to him, stating that she loved you under the sound of cheering. Mark grinned back at her, mumbling ‘me too’.

“Yeah, she’s a hell of an actress, that one. So easy to work with. Funny as f—hell, she’s just—an extremely genuine and kind person, and she really brings the energy on set.” Mark grinned. “..she’s also the only free pass my wife has ever given me. Which I won’t be using! Because I don’t believe in cheating, it’s scummy! Even though she’s gorgeous—anyone would be lucky!” He had to rise to a shout at the end as the audience erupted.

Nicki giggled next to him, “me personally, I would use that pass.”

You gasped in laughter as you watched the screen, screen-recording it all so you could go back and watch it. Saving it to your folder titled PISSING MY PANTS HRLP

The clip changed yet again, showing a scene from the Winter Solider BTS. You and Sebastian were filming a scene where he had to shoot your character—you watched the ‘Winter Solider’ shoot your character multiple times making you go down with an agonised yell, crawling away from him.

As soon as CUT was yelled, Sebastian’s face dropped from his stone cold (wintery) expression and he raced to you, crouching next to you. He practically tugged you into his lap on the floor, holding you.

“Oh my fuck that—that just felt so real, Y/n. You know I would never hurt you right?” He asked, blinking repeatedly before a small smirk fell on his lips. “You’re way too pretty to injure doll. Can’t ruin your perfect face.”

On screen you huffed in mock anger, hiding an amused grin as you shoved at him—he still held you close to him though, so both of you fell backwards and burst into giggles.

You literally thought ‘I ship them’ as you watched the clip of Sebastian and yourself, forgetting that was you for a moment.

Another clip started up—another behind the scenes. It was you and Tom Hiddleston in Thor : Ragnarok. In the scene Loki was tied down to the chair and your character was meant to intimidate him—you watched yourself take out your character’s daggers and lean forward into his space. One leg leaned up on top of the arm of the chair, sliding one dagger just a hair above the skin of his neck while using the over the move his chin up to be angled to you as you mockingly smiled down at him.

You said your line as your character but Tom remained silent, mouth parted and eyes widened as he gazed up at you—speech failing him. (You knew that they actually decided to include this awestruck look in the movie—the amount of fucking edits you’d seen was unreal).

Eyebrows crinkling you nudged your knee into his chest and he snapped out of it, grabbing your knee in a gentle grip. “Sorry darling, words sometimes seem to fail me in your presence.” He muttered rather hoarsely, still staring up at you.

“I don’t fucking blame him.” Tessa Thompson murmured from behind you both, and the camera moved to show her staring at you in a similar awe.

Present time, you could barely hide your smirk. Literally the biggest ego boost. Of all time.

Again, the clip changed and it was now Natalie Portman looking gorgeous on a carpet event, being interviewed—“if you could have Jane explore another romance than Thor, who would it be and why?”

“Y/N!” Natalia enthused immediately. “Well—her character, but like. Both. Either. One for me, one for Jane. That—would be great. And why? Come on! She’s an absolutely beautiful woman, inside and out. She has this outward glow that you literally cannot and don’t want to look away from and that reflects so much in her personality—once you’ve interacted with her one time, you never want to stop. Ever. I’m not kidding.” She giggled.

Another clip started up quickly—a blooper of you and Chris Evans. In this scene, your characters were meant to kiss after an angsty, angry argument. You stormed into the frame, into the bedroom, completely in character—an angry expression on and ready to go at Steve.

Before you could even let out a single syllable to begin your lines, Chris immediately surged forward and took your face in his hands, kissing the living daylights out of you.

You both pulled back after a bit and you just started at him, questioningly (that kiss was probably one of your best ever, let it be known, Chris Evans was a fantastic kisser).

“I—I thought It’d be good for the scene. .” Chris trailed off bashfully, scratching the base of his neck, literally pulling the excuse out of his arse. In actuality, he hadn’t wanted to spare a moment of the scene where he could be kissing you, well, not doing so.

“Bull!” Scarlett exclaimed as she materialised in the doorway. “He just wanted to kiss you.” She told you, pointedly looking at the man.

“Yeah—i—“ He huffed a defeated sigh, pink-cheeked. “I’ve got nothing. She’s right.”

In hindsight, you thought to yourself, you should probably stop being so shocked when the fanbase starts shipping you with your costars.

The clip changed: now it was you, Elizabeth and Aaron on a carpet event together—all being interviewed at the same time.

“So, Y/n, how does it feel to be in a Maximoff twin sandwich right now?” The interviewer giggled happily, smiling.

Before you could open you’re mouth—“we’re really enjoying it.” Lizzie and Aaron replied at the same time.

The interview gaped and you simply rolled your eyes as the two smirked at either side of you, they’d been talking in sync ever since you’d first met them at the table reading.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t why?” Aaron grinned crookedly. “A beautiful, lovely woman in between us. Honestly, love, there’s not a thought in my head besides you.” He joked, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

“I completely support that.” Lizzie chirped in, “ever since I’ve met this gorgeous lady who i now acknowledge as my partner in everything—she’s taken up all of the room in my brain, and I couldn’t be happier.” She giggled, putting her arm around your waist.

In the middle of them both, with an arm over your shoulder and one around your waist—you simply sighed, sparing the giddy interviewer an exaggerated suffering expression.

Again, the clip switched—it was now another blooper of you in the Iron Man movie, the scene where you handed Tony’s arse to him in the boxing ring. Instead of acting as scripted, Gwen Paltrow got up from her seat and strode over to the boxing ring, stepping inside gracefully and planting one right on your lips.

Presently, you giggled as you thought back to this moment. Gwen was your impulsive queen. Your idol.

From the floor, RDJ squawked in shock, exclaiming about being cheated and betrayed and Gwen flung her stiletto off her foot at him without moving from your lips.

When she finally did, she simply smiled at you kindly, “you just looked so good that I couldn’t not kiss you, sweets.” She shrugged and you, on screen, laughed at her as you leaned back in to kiss her cheek.

(Unfortunately the scene was not included in the movie—but Gwen never wasted an opportunity to talk about it, and you, if the chance arose).

The clip moved onto another one—back to the Thor : Ragnarok movie, you and Heimdall were fighting together, however you missed a step in your stunt and ended up stumbling. Idris immediately caught you with a steady arm around your waist, full you to him so you could stabilise yourself.

You smiled up at him thankfully, squeezing his arm in gratitude (totally not because you’d just wanted to feel his bicep).

You watched as your on screen self get distracted again and Idris murmured to Tom who’d now appeared next to him, “I feel like it’s dishonourable how much I want her to fall so I can catch her again now.”

“Mate, trust me,” Tom laughed, “I completely understand. But she doesn’t need the rescuing.”

“That she does not.” Both men smiled fondly as they watched you.

Presently, you were actively refusing to blush.

A different clip started up—Florence Pugh was being interviewed, looking breathtaking in her green dress. “—did you take anything from set?” The interviewer was asking, smiling at Florence.

“Um—not much, just Y/n’s heart.” Florence immediately cracked up at her own joke, smiling widely. “And her underwear too.” She added.

The interviewer opened her mouth to say something more, giggling at Florence as she continued speaking: “and before you ask, no. I wouldn’t be selling, for any price. Finders keepers and all that shite—plus, she’s my girl, so. That rule applies even more so. No one else can take her heart. Or her pants.”

Watching your friend, you giggled at her cheesy smile at her words before getting distracted by your group chat, where multiple of your friends and co-starts had seen your message and were now responding. Your laughter increased tenfold as you opened the thread.

[darksturnz]

SNOWED IN

CONTENTS:・smut-heavy plot ・shypervy!matt ・pillow riding・unprotected p in v ・oral (m! & afab! receiving)・creampie ・fluff :3 + more WC: 5.1k

The blizzard outside was relentless, the kind that swallowed the streets of Boston in a suffocating white blanket and made the idea of stepping outdoors laughable. The windows of the apartment were fogged over, and every now and then the wind would whistle against the panes like it was testing the limits of the glass. You were curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket that trailed onto the floor, flipping through the channels with little interest.

Behind you, Matt stood in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a mug of coffee in his hands. He had that slightly disheveled look about him, like he’d rolled out of bed without fully shaking off sleep—messy hair, hoodie wrinkled, socks mismatched. You didn’t mind. Matt was always a little like that: casual, a bit quiet, but solid and easy to be around.

“You know, I feel like we should be doing something,” you said, breaking the silence.

“Something like what?” he asked, his voice soft but curious.

“I don’t know. It’s a snow day! Aren’t snow days supposed to be fun?”

He took a sip of his coffee, giving you a small, lopsided smile. “They’re also for staying inside and not freezing to death. I think we’ve got that part down.”

You sighed dramatically, tossing the remote onto the coffee table. “Come on, Matt. Live a little. We’ve been roommates for, what, three years? This is like our… fifth snowstorm together. We’ve gotta mix it up.”

“Mix it up how?”

You sat up, turning to face him with a spark of determination. “We could have a movie marathon. Or play a game. Or—wait, hear me out—we could build a pillow fort.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “A pillow fort? Aren’t we a little old for that?”

“Never.” You grinned at him, sliding off the couch and padding over to where he stood. “Don’t pretend like you don’t want to. You’re just scared you’ll get out-engineered by me.”

Matt scoffed lightly, but his ears turned pink, something you didn’t notice as you rummaged through the hallway closet for extra pillows.

“Okay,” he said finally, setting his mug down and rubbing the back of his neck. “But don’t blame me if this thing collapses.”

“It won’t collapse if you do what I say.” You shot him a playful wink, which only made the flush on his cheeks deepen.

The two of you got to work, pulling cushions off the couch and draping blankets over chairs to form the roof. Matt quietly followed your lead, handing you supplies and occasionally mumbling things like, “That’s not gonna hold,” or “You’re gonna need more support there.”

At one point, you stood on the coffee table to adjust a blanket, and Matt reached out instinctively, his hand hovering near your back like he was afraid you might fall.

“Careful,” he said softly.

“I’m fine, Dad,” you teased, sticking your tongue out at him.

His hand dropped, and he turned away, pretending to busy himself with straightening a pillow, though the faint redness creeping up his neck gave him away.

When the fort was finally done, it was a masterpiece—cozy and lopsided, with string lights you’d fished out of a storage box giving it a warm glow. You crawled inside first, sitting cross-legged on the floor and patting the space next to you.

“Come on, it’s not a real fort until you’re inside and it manages to stay up.”

He hesitated for a second, then ducked under the blanket and sat beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours in the cramped space.

“See? Isn’t this better than nothing?” you said, looking over at him with a smile.

“Yeah,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “It is.”

You handed him a bag of popcorn, your fingers grazing his, and he froze for just a moment before quickly taking it, his eyes fixed firmly on the string lights above.

The two of you spent the evening talking and laughing, the snowstorm forgotten as you swapped stories and debated over which childhood cartoons were the best. Every so often, Matt would glance at you out of the corner of his eye, his heart thudding a little harder when you laughed or smiled at him like he was the only person in the room, which he was but that’s besides the point.

Eventually, though, exhaustion started to creep in. You yawned, stretching your arms overhead.

“I think I’m gonna head to bed,” you said, crawling out of the fort and standing up.

Matt followed you out, watching as you gathered the blanket you’d been using earlier. “Goodnight,” he said, his voice soft.

“Goodnight, Matt,” you replied, giving him a little wave as you disappeared down the hall.

He lingered in the living room for a moment, staring at the now-empty fort before heading towards the bathroom for a shower.

As you settled into bed, wrapping yourself in the familiar weight of your blankets, you heard it: the faint hum of the shower turning on down the hall. The steady rush of water filtered through the quiet apartment, a soothing yet distant sound that seemed to amplify the stillness of your room. You lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, letting the sound wash over you like white noise.

But the second your head hit the pillow, the restlessness crept in.

You sighed softly, rolling onto your side, then your back again, punching the pillow as if fluffing it would trick your body into cooperating. But it was no use. Insomnia—your unwelcome, all-too-familiar companion—was already settling in. This was how it went most nights, the routine so predictable it almost felt like a cruel joke.

The weight of exhaustion was there, heavy in your limbs, but your mind refused to follow. Thoughts you couldn’t quite name flitted just out of reach, intangible but persistent, keeping you from slipping into the oblivion of sleep.

Another sigh escaped your lips, quieter this time, like you were trying not to disturb the silence. You could still hear the water running, muffled now, but constant. Matt was probably rinsing away the day, oblivious to the small storm brewing in your head. You wondered absently how he always seemed so calm, so unbothered by the little things that left you tangled up and wide awake.

You rolled onto your side again, clutching the blankets a little tighter, hoping the rhythmic hum of the shower might somehow lull you to sleep. But it wasn’t working. If anything, it was having the opposite effect. Your mind wandered, unbidden, to the thought of Matt in the shower—steam rising, water trailing down his skin—and suddenly, your cheeks burned with a heat that had nothing to do with the blankets wrapped around you.

It was no secret, at least not to yourself, that Matt was incredibly attractive. Add to that his quiet sweetness, his unshakable respectfulness, and it was a combination that left your head spinning more often than you’d care to admit. It wasn’t just you, either—your mutual friends seemed baffled that the two of you had managed to live together for years without any “accidents” during late nights out. But then again, Matt was Matt. Respectful to a fault, impossibly shy, and so unaware of the effect he had on people—especially you—that it almost made you laugh.

Almost. Because right now, the thought of him was doing anything but making you laugh.

You squeezed your eyes shut, as if that might somehow chase away the thoughts swarming your mind. But it didn’t help. The image of Matt—droplets clinging to his collarbone—lingered stubbornly. You shifted restlessly, the blankets suddenly too warm, your heart beating just a little faster than it should.

This is ridiculous, you told yourself, burying your face into the pillow. He’s your roommate. He probably doesn’t even think about you like that.

And yet, some part of you couldn’t ignore the moments. The tiny, fleeting glances. The way he always seemed a little nervous when he stood too close. The way his ears turned red whenever you teased him, like he wasn’t used to being the center of someone’s attention.

You groaned softly, flipping onto your back and staring at the ceiling as if it held some sort of answer. The truth was, you’d been toeing the line with Matt for so long that even thinking about crossing it felt dangerous. But tonight, with the sound of the shower still running and your mind painting pictures you shouldn’t be entertaining, the line felt thinner than ever.

The water finally shut off, breaking through your thoughts. You held your breath, listening as the faint rustle of movement came from the bathroom—Matt grabbing a towel, maybe shaking out his hair. Your cheeks burned again at how vivid your imagination had become, and you pulled the blanket over your face like it might shield you from your own embarrassment.

Moments later, you heard his footsteps padding softly down the hallway. He paused outside your door, long enough that you wondered if he might knock. But instead, he moved on, his door creaking open before clicking softly shut.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, the apartment quiet once more. But now, sleep felt even further away, your heart racing with the knowledge that Matt was just down the hall, freshly showered and unaware of the effect he had on you.

Get a grip, you scolded yourself, rolling over for what felt like the hundredth time. But as you closed your eyes, his face was still there, vivid and unshakable, lingering in the quiet of the night.

Your body betrayed you completely, heat spreading across your skin as the thoughts grew harder to push away. Your heart thudded loudly in your chest, the rhythm almost deafening in the stillness of your room. It wasn’t just your cheeks burning anymore—your entire body felt warmer, the blankets suddenly suffocating as you kicked them off in frustration.

Your breathing quickened, shallow and uneven, as if even the thought of him—his damp hair, the curve of his jaw, the way he’d probably look utterly at ease in the privacy of the bathroom—was too much to process. You pressed your thighs together instinctively, trying to quell the restless energy pooling in your stomach, but it only seemed to make it worse.

Your hands clenched at the sheets, gripping them tightly as you stared up at the ceiling, willing yourself to think about anything else. But it was impossible. Every time you tried to distract yourself, your mind circled back to him, to the sound of the shower and the way you imagined droplets clinging to his skin, how he’d towel his hair dry in that effortless, boyish way of his.

Another frustrated sigh escaped your lips, and you turned onto your stomach, pressing your face into the pillow. Your body refused to settle, every nerve ending feeling far too aware, far too alive. You hated how easily he got to you, how the mere idea of him could make your body react like this, even when you knew it was pointless to dwell on it.

Still, the thoughts lingered, stubborn and insistent, leaving you flushed and restless in the dark. You lay there for a moment longer, the ache between your legs growing stronger with each passing minute. The image of Matt fresh from the shower was seared into your mind. His scent, cedar wood and vanilla, seemed to linger in the air, taunting you with its closeness.

Unable to bear the torment any longer, you quietly slipped out of bed, careful not to make a sound. Your heart raced as you tiptoed towards your closet, retrieving your old pillow - one you'd secretly come to associate with these forbidden fantasies.

Returning to your bed, you positioned the pillow just so, imagining it was Matt beneath you. Slowly, you straddled it, biting your lip to stifle a moan as you began to grind against the soft surface.

Your breath came in ragged gasps as you rode the pillow with increasing fervor, lost in the fantasy of Matt's strong hands gripping your hips, guiding your movements. In your mind's eye, his piercing blue gaze locked with yours, filled with equal parts desire and restraint.

"Fuck," you whispered, the word escaping through clenched teeth as the pressure built within you. The fabric of your thin cotton panties grew damp, adding to the delicious friction against your most sensitive places.

Meanwhile, just outside your bedroom door, Matt stood frozen, his heart pounding in his chest. He had been about to knock on your door, to check if you needed anything before he seriously drifted off to sleep, your insomnia was always something he tried to find little tips and tricks on google to help you with it. But then he heard it - a soft, needy whimper that sent shivers down his spine.

Curiosity getting the better of him, he leaned closer to the door, straining to hear more. And then he heard it again, unmistakable this time: "Matt." Your voice, breathy and laden with desire, calling out his name.

Unable to resist, he slowly turned the knob, cracking open the door just enough to peer inside. The sight that greeted him nearly brought him to his knees. There you were, riding a pillow with wild abandon, your face contorted in pleasure as you chased your release.

Matt's mouth went dry as he watched you, transfixed by the erotic display before him. His cock twitched in his sweatpants, already half-hard from the tantalizing sounds spilling from your lips. He knew he should look away, give you privacy, but he couldn't tear his gaze from the mesmerizing sight of your hips undulating against the pillow.

Unconsciously, one hand drifted to his crotch, palming himself through the thin fabric. A low groan escaped him as he imagined it was his body you were grinding against, his name you were moaning so sweetly. Lost in the fantasy, he began to stroke himself in earnest, his breathing growing heavier with each pass of his hand.

As you continued to ride the pillow, lost in your own world of pleasure, Matt watched with bated breath. His hand moved faster over his now fully erect cock, the wet sounds of your arousal mingling obscenely with his own harsh pants. Sweat beaded on his brow as he struggled to maintain his silence, desperate not to alert you to his presence.

As your climax approached, your movements became more frantic, more urgent. Your fingers dug into the pillow, anchoring yourself as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you. "Matt!" you cried out, his name a prayer on your lips as you shattered completely.

At the same moment, Matt felt his own orgasm building, coiling tighter and tighter in his gut. With a final, strangled groan, he spilled into his hand, his vision going white as intense pleasure consumed him. For a long moment, he remained rooted to the spot, chest heaving as he caught his breath.

Then reality came crashing back in. What the hell had he done? Guilt and shame washed over him as he realized the depths of his betrayal. You trusted him, and here he was, spying on you in such an intimate moment, using you for his own twisted gratification.

As the last tremors of your climax faded, you slowly opened your eyes, feeling deliciously spent and satisfied. It was only then that you noticed the faint crack of light seeping in from the slightly ajar bedroom door, illuminating the shadowy figure standing just beyond the threshold.

Your gaze snapped up, locking with Matt's wide, guilty eyes. His lips were parted, his chest rising and falling rapidly as if he had just run a marathon. And there, plain as day, was the unmistakable wet patch darkening the front of his sweatpants, the outline of his still-prominent erection clearly visible.

For a moment, neither of you moved, both stunned into silence by the weight of the revelation. Then, as if in slow motion, Matt's hands emerged from his waistband, his face twisting with a mixture of shame and residual lust. "I..."

"I'm sorry," Matt managed to choke out, his voice rough with emotion. "I didn't mean to... I shouldn't have..." He trailed off, unable to find the words to express the depth of his regret and self-loathing.

He took a step back, ready to flee, to escape the condemning judgment he expected to see in your eyes. But something stopped him - perhaps it was the way you looked at him, not with anger or disgust, but with a hunger that mirrored his own.

"I saw you," he whispered, his gaze dropping to the pillow still clutched between your thighs. "I heard you saying my name, and I... I couldn't stop myself." His hand drifted back to his crotch, cupping himself almost involuntarily. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

Your breath caught in your throat at Matt's raw confession, desire warring with trepidation in your chest. This was dangerous territory, crossing lines that could never be uncrossed. Yet the aching need pulsing between your legs urged you forward, drowning out the voice of reason.

Slowly, deliberately, you sat up, letting the pillow fall away as you met Matt's heated gaze. "Show me," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. "Show me what I do to you."

Matt swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing with the motion. Without breaking eye contact, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants, pushing them down just enough to free his straining erection. It sprang forth, thick and hard, the tip glistening with pre-cum.

Your pulse raced as you drank in the sight of Matt's impressive length, your cunt clenching around nothing with renewed desire. Part of you wanted to reach out, to touch, to taste, but you held yourself back, waiting to see how far he would take this forbidden game.

Matt's hand wrapped around his shaft, giving it a slow pump from base to tip. A shudder ran through him at the contact, his head falling back as he let out a low moan. "Fuck, y/n," he panted, his voice strained with need. "The things I want to do to you..."

His hand moved faster, stroking himself with purposeful intent. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with his harsh breaths and bitten-off curses.

Emboldened by Matt's brazen display, you rose from the bed on trembling legs, closing the distance between you with deliberate slowness. His eyes widened as you drew near, his hand faltering in its rhythm as he took in your small frame, your old band t-shirt brushing against your bare thighs and your face flushed and glistening with sweat.

"Touch me," you demanded softly, guiding his free hand under your shirt and to your breast. "I want to feel you."

Matt obliged eagerly, his calloused palm molding to the supple flesh, thumb grazing over the pebbled peak. Electricity zipped through your veins at the contact, stoking the fire burning low in your belly.

Unable to resist any longer, you reached out, wrapping slender fingers around his throbbing cock. Matt groaned gutturally, his hips bucking into your grip as you began to stroke him in tandem with his own movements.

Lost in a haze of lust, Matt surrendered to the exquisite sensations assaulting his senses. Your soft hand on his aching cock, the press of your pert breast against his palm, the intoxicating scent of your arousal filling his nostrils - it was almost too much to bear.

With a growl, he tugged your shirt up and over your head, tossing it aside carelessly. His hungry gaze raked over your naked form, drinking in every dip and curve like a man starved. "So fucking beautiful," he rasped, reverent and awestruck.

Lowering his head, he captured one perky nipple between his lips, suckling greedily as his tongue swirled around the sensitive bud. Your answering moan spurred him on, his free hand sliding down to cup your ass, kneading the firm globe possessively.

Matt's demeanor shifted abruptly, his usual shyness melting away like snow under the summer sun. In its place was a raw, primal dominance that sent shivers racing down your spine.

"On your knees," he commanded, his voice a deep, authoritative rumble. There was no room for argument, no trace of the hesitant boy you knew. This was a man who took what he wanted, and right now, he wanted you.

Obediently, you sank to the floor, your heart pounding in your ears as you gazed up at him through lowered lashes. Matt towered over you, his cock jutting proudly.

"Open your mouth," he growled, fisting a hand in your hair and guiding you closer.

Your lips parted automatically, a thrill of submission coursing through you at Matt's commanding tone. He wasted no time, feeding his thick length past your lips and onto your tongue, groaning at the slick heat enveloping him.

"Fuck, yes," he grunted, setting a punishing pace as he fucked your face with abandon. One hand remained tangled in your hair, holding you steady while the other braced against the wall behind you, his muscles flexing with each powerful thrust.

Saliva dripped down your chin as you struggled to accommodate his girth, your jaw aching with the strain. But the depravity of it all, the sheer wrongness of being used so roughly by your roommate and best friend, only heightened your arousal.

Your muffled moans vibrated around Matt's cock as he continued to use your mouth for his pleasure, his balls slapping against your chin with each brutal snap of his hips. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes from the intensity, but you didn't dare pull away, submitting wholly to his dominance.

"That's it, take it all," Matt snarled, his voice guttural and rough with lust. "Bein’ such a good girl f’me, aren't you?"

His filthy words sent liquid heat straight to your core, your neglected cunt clenching around emptiness for the umpteenth time tonight. You needed more, craved the feel of him stretching you open, claiming you in the most primal way possible.

As if sensing your desperation, Matt suddenly withdrew, leaving you gasping and bereft.

"Need you so fuckin' bad, been waitin' years for this shit, kid," Matt rasped, his voice dripping with pent-up hunger. Before you could even process his words, he had you lifted off your feet, strong hands gripping your thighs as he tossed you onto the bed like a ragdoll.

You bounced slightly on the mattress, the springs creaking under your combined weight. Matt was on you in an instant, pinning you beneath his larger frame as he forced your legs apart, exposing your dripping sex to his ravenous gaze.

"Christ," he panted, his eyes dark with lust. "fuckin’ dripping baby, look at that, already making such a mess on your bed and i’ve yet to touch you."

Matt wasted no time burying his face between your thighs, his tongue delving deep into your soaked folds without preamble. “Matt! oh-“ You cried out sharply at the sudden intrusion, your back arching off the bed as he lapped at your essence like a man possessed.

"Mmmph, so sweet," he mumbled against your flesh, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure radiating outward. His nose nudged your swollen clit, inhaling deeply as if savoring your unique musk. "Could eat this pretty pussy all day long."

Two thick fingers plunged knuckle-deep into your fluttering hole, pumping in and out at a relentless pace. They curled just so, rubbing mercilessly against that sweet spot inside you, coaxing you towards the edge with ruthless efficiency.

"Oh god, Matt!" you keened, your voice high and breathy with need. Your fingers scrabbled desperately at the sheets beneath you, seeking stability as the intense pleasure threatened to consume you whole. "Don't stop, please don't stop!"

Your hips bucked wildly, grinding shamelessly against his talented mouth as he worked you over with single-minded focus. The obscene wet sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of your sopping cunt filled the room, mingling with your wanton moans and his guttural groans of satisfaction.

It was filthy, debauched, everything you'd ever fantasized about late at night when you were alone with nothing but your imagination and your trusty vibrator for company.

Matt's tongue swirled around your throbbing clit, flicking rapidly over the sensitive bundle of nerves until you saw stars. His fingers never ceased their relentless assault, curling and twisting inside you, stroking along your inner walls with practiced precision.

"M’gonna...gonna come!" you sobbed, teetering on the razor's edge of ecstasy. Every muscle in your body pulled taut, quivering with the force of your impending release. "oh my god"

With a triumphant growl, he sealed his lips around your clit and sucked hard, his fingers pistoning furiously. That was all it took to send you hurtling over the precipice, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave of pure bliss.

As the aftershocks of your climax rippled through you, Matt shifted his position, moving to hover over your trembling form. You could feel the blunt head of his cock nudging insistently at your entrance, smearing the copious juices seeping from your tight hole.

A small puddle of your combined fluids had formed beneath you, staining the sheets with irrefutable evidence of your mutual desire. The musky scent of sex hung heavy in the air.

Matt groaned low in his throat as he rubbed the swollen tip of his cock through your slick folds, coating himself liberally in your essence. The drag of his thick shaft against your sensitive flesh drew another desperate whimper from your lips, your hips canting upwards in silent invitation.

"You're so fuckin' wet for me," he rasped, his voice rough with barely restrained lust. "Bet this tight little cunt is just dyin' to be stretched wide on my cock, isn't she?"

"Yes, please," you breathed, your voice hoarse from screaming his name mere moments ago. " need you inside me, been wanting this for so long..."

Your hands roamed restlessly over his broad shoulders and back, mapping the planes of his muscular body. You could feel the tension thrumming through him, the barely leashed control he was exerting over himself.

"Please, Matt," you whimpered again, wrapping your legs around his waist and locking your ankles at the small of his back. "Don't make me beg."

“As much as I’d love to hear that shit,” he huffs out and with a guttural moan, Matt surged forward, bottoming out in one powerful thrust. Your velvety walls clenched greedily around him, drawing him deeper into your welcoming heat.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," he panted, his forehead coming to rest against yours as he fought to maintain some semblance of restraint. "So tight, so perfect. Like you were made just for me."

He began to move then, withdrawing almost completely before plunging back in with bruising force. Each snap of his hips drove you further up the bed, the headboard banging rhythmically against the wall in a lewd counterpoint to the obscene squelch of his cock plundering your sopping wet cunt.

The pressure built steadily within you, coiling tighter and tighter with each punishing thrust. Your nails raked down his back, leaving angry red welts in their wake as you clung to him desperately, urging him deeper still.

"Harder-please," you demanded breathlessly, tilting your hips to meet his increasingly erratic strokes. "wanna feel you for days."

Your plea seemed to shatter the last vestiges of his control. With a feral snarl, Matt flipped you over onto your stomach, hauling your ass up into the air. He kicked your legs apart with his knee, opening you up completely to his hungry gaze.

"Gonna ruin this sweet little cunt," he promised darkly, delivering a sharp smack to your upturned rear. "Fill you up 'til you're leakin' with my cum."

"Yes, yes, fuck!" you chanted deliriously, pushing back against him with wild abandon. Each brutal thrust sent sparks of pleasure-pain racing up your spine, stoking the inferno building in your core.

The wet slap of skin on skin echoed obscenely throughout the room, punctuated by your loud cries and his grunts. Sweat dripped down his brow, plastering stray locks of hair to his forehead as he rutted into you like a madman.

"M’close," he bit out through clenched teeth, his movements growing increasingly erratic. "Come with me, baby. Wanna feel this tight pussy milking me dry."

With a strangled cry, you came undone, your release crashing over you like a tsunami. Your walls clamped down vice-like around his pistoning length, rippling along every inch as you rode out the waves of ecstasy.

The sensation proved too much for Matt. With a guttural roar, he buried himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself deep inside your cunt. Thick ropes of cum painted your insides, marking you irrevocably as his.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, simply basking in the afterglow as you struggled to catch your breath. Finally, Matt rolled to the side, gathering you close and tucking your head beneath his chin.

"That was...fuck," he murmured, pressing a tender kiss to your sweat-damp temple. "Best damn snow day of my life."

The two of you lay tangled together, limbs intertwined as you slowly drifted back to reality. The world outside continued to rage, wind howling and snow piling up, but here in the cocoon of Matt's arms, all was warm and peaceful.

As your breathing evened out, you felt a strange sense of contentment wash over you. This was more than just a casual hookup born of opportunity and circumstance - there was a connection here, something real and profound.

Matt seemed to sense it too. He nuzzled into your hair, inhaling deeply as if trying to memorize your scent. "Let me stay tonight," he whispered, his voice soft and vulnerable but this time in a way you'd never heard before. "wanna hold you 'til morning."

A sleepy smile curved your lips as you nodded against his chest. "Stay," you mumbled, already feeling yourself slipping towards slumber. "Wanna wake up with you."

Matt pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, his strong arms tightening around you possessively. "Sleep, sweetheart. I got you."

As consciousness faded away, you couldn't remember the last time you'd felt so safe, so cherished. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new uncertainties - but for now, wrapped up in the warmth of Matt's embrace, everything was exactly as it should be.

And you could finally sleep.

AUTHORS NOTE: i’ve said it before but thank you guys again so so much for 200+ followers :,) i hope you enjoyed.

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[noisilyscreechingsong]

It’s canon that Jason Todd had a brother named Danny Todd. All we know is he died being a look out for a local gang. Who’s to say he didn’t die at the age of fourteen and come back? Maybe the Fentons were investigating the levels of ectoplasm in the area and somehow got their hands on an amnesic kid who died and didn’t quite stay dead? Perhaps they wanted to make him their side experiment, or they wanted to see if they can teach it to be good and not evil. Who knows. But as soon at Danny steps foot in Gotham, the entity of Gotham is there to greet him, welcome him home and remind him of who he was. And does he remember.

Danny is just a year or two younger than Dick and he was supposed to be starting a new job in the R&D department of WE. Instead he’s pushed back his start date to do research.

Of course, the first thing he looks up is his family, his original family that he can’t believe he forgot, to find out his mother, his father, and his little baby brother are all dead and buried. He has to take a break to sob uncontrollably on the kitchen floor for a while before gathering himself back up to find out what happened. He is unimpressed with the lack of information on Jason’s death, but he did find lots on his adoption to mister rich guy Brucie Wayne.

So it’s with almost no hesitation that after finding every single article and snippet he can on his brother and still find it lacking, he drives his motorcycle, that he built himself thank you, to Wayne Manor where he rang the buzzer repeatedly with a little too much force.

It takes him a while to finally bully his way through the gates, arguing with the butler and telling little white lies of ‘of course I don’t want to harm Mr. Wayne, I just need to ask him some questions’.

Sure he could have waited and got close to him through his new job or had some other cunning plan, but Danny has always been a straightforward kind of person and that didn’t change after his death. No, he prefers to get what he wants straight from the source.

That’s how he ends up pacing the length of the sitting room the British guy left him in with a deep glare and tense shoulders.

It was a nice place. Clean. Taken care of. Expensive. Jason lived here once upon a time. Too bad it didn’t last.

Mr. Wayne does show, surprisingly, and takes the time to assess him like a threat as he BS’s him with a ditzy expression.

Danny walks right up to him and sticks out his hand to shake because Jazz raised him with manners.

“Mr. Wayne,” he greets with a stiff nod.

Mr. Wayne hesitantly takes the offered hand.

“Uh, nice to meet you, I’m sorry, Alfred didn’t tell me your-“

As soon as the handshake is over Danny socks him with a right hook straight to the face. The force throws him back a few steps but he recovers quickly. Danny shakes out his hand.

“My name is Danny Fenton. Before that though my name was Danny Todd.” He sees Wayne’s eyes widen a bit in recognition. The next part didn’t really need to be said but he did it anyway. “My little brother was Jason and no I don’t have proof so you’ll just have to take my word for it. You are going to tell me exactly how he died and I’m not leaving here until you do.”

His words had fallen back into his Gotham Crime Alley accent with how emotional he was. He forgot how he even used to talk. How does that even happen?

He walks back to sit on the couch, getting comfortable because he has a feeling this guy will drag this out like pulling teeth.

“I’ll ask Alfred to get some refreshments,” Wayne says after several minutes of silence.

“You do that.”

[shrenvents]

Professor Howlett

Warnings: Minors dni, smut, no protection, fingering, vaginal, doggy, pet names, squirting, age gap (legal!)

Pairing: Logan Howlett/Wolverine x Student (Mutant) reader

Summary: Your history professor always seemed uninterested in you, that was until you missed his class.

Word count: 2.7k

…

Throughout high school I’ve always kind of stood out. To be honest, I only have myself to blame. Bright colours and statement pieces are just so much more appealing, than wearing something ‘plain.’ Unfortunately, I did more than just “stand out” that day, just three weeks away from senior graduation. That fateful day, I was so close to the finish line, before my stupid ex-boyfriend discovered my secret, and outed it to the entire student body.

That I’m a mutant…

That was what led me across the coast, for most of the past year, running from god knows what. I heard the stories of mutants being hunted and gone missing, and I didn’t intend to stick around long enough, that I wouldn’t at least make it to my 20th birthday.

However, my days of swindling folks of cash and food came to a halt, when I spotted a man with red-tinted glasses watching me. His invested gaze observed my every movement, so I grabbed all my shit, and the last bit of petty change I managed to get, and sprinted into a crowd.

Just as I thought I was in the clear, my face collided with a colossal, firm chest. I pressed the heels of my palms into it, and felt the cotton of his white shirt, and the rough, yet smooth texture of his worn-in, leather jacket.

Logan Howlett, or should I say, Mr. Howlett, my history Professor... After he and Scott captured me, they dragged me by the ankles to their school for the “gifted.” I cringed when they said where we were headed, but once I arrived and saw all the kids, like me, going about their lives, free, I knew everything would be more than okay.

And one thing I knew for sure, is that I wouldn’t mind attending Mr. Howlett’s class. Did I know shit about history, yes. But I’ve always had a thing for the older guy, and from what I’ve heard, he’s more than enough in that department.

...

This morning, racing out of my room, I swore profusely at my tardiness... Just my luck. The one day that week I get to see and listen to Logan talk for an hour straight, my alarm malfunctions.

Multitasking between attempting to put on my hot-pink heels, wrapping my sparkly bag over my shoulder, and shutting my door, I missed the approaching figure behind me.

“It’s past 11 am, where do you think you’re headed?” I swivel on my toes, spinning to face Storm. “Class?”

“The only class you have left today kid, is at 2. You’ve managed to miss the rest already,” she scolds flatly.

“Noooo,” I fake astonishment and defeat, as I slowly back away from Storm's scrutinizing stare. She calls my name after I’ve taken at least two large steps backward. “Logan wants to see you,” she states, exasperated.

“Oh?” I straighten out, stopping my next step short. “Ok!” I exclaim, a little too perky. She huffs a faint smirk and walks off, and I take flight, zooming to Logan’s class, where he’s most likely dozed off.

Lo and behold, after knocking once and receiving no response, I open the door to see him snoring. With his legs fully extended, and feet resting on his desk, I bask in his lengthy physic. I giggle and then go towards him.

Mr. Howlett?” I say, clearing my throat loudly, he grunts in his sleep and I smile. “Mr. Howlett?” I say even sweeter. A second later, I swear he mumbles my name and my heart stutters, but he’s still sleeping. I move in closer to his ear. “Logan,” I announce rigidly, and my change in tone makes him flinch, legs falling off the table, eyes popping open.

He rasps my name, voice echoing through the classroom. I refused to move away from my position, wanting to seem unaffected by him, but I was anything but. With his lazy eyes roaming over my skin, my heart races wildly. He clears his throat, and rolls his eyes away after taking in my attire, as he usually does —gives me a once-over, and rolls his eyes back to his focus on his lecture.

“You missed class, that isn’t like you,” he notes, almost to himself.

“Yes and I’m sorry-“

“I hope it wasn’t because you were too busy picking that outfit.” Logan scoffs and my eyes widen. He’s always made snarky comments, and this wasn’t anything new, but every time he does, I can’t help the boiling feeling in my lungs, that makes me rise to defend myself. “No, maybe I just felt like sleeping in?” I declare. A short-lived chuckle escapes him. “And you’re just gonna admit to that?” He smirks as he faces me. “I don’t like kids skipping my class.”

“First off, I’m an adult, second, you don’t care when kids skip your class,” I retort, with a growing smile, beaming across my face. Though, his complimentary smile, drops as mine comes to full form. He’s never seemed fond of my smile, or maybe it’s just me.

“You don’t skip my class.” He states once again, and my head quirks in confusion. “Um, I’m sorry?” I compromise, “It won’t happen again.”

“It better not,” He remarks dangerously. My brows furrow.

“Okay, I don’t get why it matters so much to you Mr. Howlett.” I place my hands on my hips, gazing down at him in his chair like I'm reprimanding a child. Which he is not akin to.

He lifts from his chair, standing up. I gasp as he towers over me. “Watch your tone, or I’ll fail ya,” he counters, fighting a smirk, staying stoic. “What?” I yelp and his smirk breaks through. My jaw goes slack. “Mr. Howlett, that’s not funny!”

“What’s not funny, is you pretending like calling me 'Mr. Howlett,' doesn’t turn you on.”

I freeze in disbelief. Was this one of my daydreams? Am I really awake right now?

“You heard me, you damn highlighter,” he asserts. “Call me Logan for fucks sake, if you’re a damn adult.” His scratchy voice loses its humour, and I stay frozen to the spot. “Get outta here, would ya,” Logan orders as he leisurely retakes his seat, getting comfortable for his next nap.

Unable to drag myself away, my eyes refocus on the subject of my desires. “Why do I have such a thing for assholes.”

Before Logan can respond angrily, I sit on his lap, dropping my purse to the floor, and straddling his hips. I cup his perplexed face and crash our mouths together, moulding them into one. He grunts in surprise as if he didn’t expect me to retaliate, as if he didn’t expect that I would want him this way.

He half-heartedly pulls away between kisses, whispering my name in small protests, but he gets muffled by my lips and grinds on his lap. Quickly, his objections turn into fierce groans. He takes my hips into his hands, tightly gripping into my flesh as he pushes me back, onto his desk. I whimper as his crotch stays glued to my core, even as we move. One hand then moves from my hip to my neck, holding it, then slowly sliding to my jaw, grasping it in a hungry, pressing kiss. His tongue laps my mouth, completely dominating me, and I struggle to breathe.

Just as I’m about to pull away to comment on how desperate he seems, his other hand flips me over with ease. My stomach is now on top of his desk, his crotch, like iron against my ass, and his hands trace down from my shoulder blades, to my bum. With my head hung over the desk, I pant, practically drooling.

“You’re asking for detention pinky,” he mutters, and I respond by pushing back into his hard cock. “I'm a sucker for extra attention teach,” I mention, as sensually as I could muster. He chuckles lowly, and I shudder. The pressure of his dick doesn’t change, and his hands continue their unhurried venture of me. “You like attention sweets?” Logan questions softly. His tone makes me shiver and whimper, yet again. “I like yours.”

“Just mine?” He questions darkly, telling me he doesn’t actually want any opposition. “Yes,” I whisper.

His voice drops an octave as he swears, rolling his hips into me once. I moan loudly. “Shhhh princess, you tryna alert the entire building?” He asks with amusement evident. I shake my head, no, and he laughs by my ear as he dips down. “Good, because I don’t like sharing your attention,” he says passively. “And I’d like to be the only ‘asshole,’ that gets to see what’s under these ridiculous clothes.”

“Hey!” I object meekly. I feel him smile as he leans away from my ear, and I turn my head over my shoulder to watch him peer down at where our bodies meet. “You probably want me to fuck you on this desk.” He speaks as though I’m not there to hear him. “Ya probably want to be taken here so that every time you’re sitting in my class, you can imagine me deep inside you.” He trails off as his hand pushes up my shirt, touching my lower back.

“But we can’t do that,” he sighs hoarsely.

“Why?” My reply is so quick that I grimace.

“Because, if we did, I’d be hard every time I’m in this fucking room, and that ain’t the smartest idea.” I moan at his crudeness and gasp when he pecks my naked spine, just below my bra clip. “Even your lingerie is pink huh?” He laughs smoothly. “Imagined it would be.” My legs rub together instinctively at his words.

“You imagined it?”

He pauses. “Hell yeah I did, though I tried to fight it,” he muses in between a groan. “It didn’t take me long to figure you wanted this too, princess,” he murmurs pleasantly.

After a long beat of silence and a little grinding, I speak up. “So now what? If you’re not going to make love to me here.”

He slowly pushes the hair over my face, behind my ear, tilting my head to face him just a bit. He then leans down and kisses me on the cheek.

“I’ll come to you,” is all Logan says as he reluctantly wrenches himself from me, after giving my ass cheek a mild slap. I yelp and nearly pout at the loss of touch. We hold eye contact as he backs away. “Get going, otherwise you’ll be late,” he comments airily. I nod and scurry out the room, with a grin plastered on my face.

...

After a long, vigorous rest of the day. I collapse into my plushy bed with a sigh.

“Took you long enough,” a dark voice rings, with a hint of familiar sass. I jolt up to see Logan leaning on my wardrobe. His tight shirt is further strained when his arms cross. “Been waiting to ‘make love' to ya all day,” he claims, with a mocking tone, repeating my "childish" words from earlier. My best guess is that he assumes I’m a virgin, from that sentence alone.

So, in an attempt to remedy my reputation, sitting up on my bed, with my arms bracing my figure, I slowly spread my bent legs. I bite my bottom lip, and his eyes shift down and blacken. “Get on with it then, Logan.” I roll my tongue as his name teasingly leaves my mouth. His head twitches in an almost feral manner, and I gulp.

“You’re asking for it,” is all he mumbles before pouncing on me. Our limbs tangle and I moan as his leg presses into my clothed clit. “Please,” I just about sob, to which he responds with an aggressive kiss and another crushing rub of his thigh. I moan louder, and he grunts, “You like that?” I push my hands into his hair, running my fingers through his thick locks. He lets out a coarse groan.

Loving how vocal he is, I decide to encourage him by groping his cock over his rugged jeans. “Fuck, baby,” he groans out when his mouth leaves mine. He then runs his tongue over my neck and collar, soon nibbling on my earlobe. His thigh continues to make work of me, and I match his pace. “You're so dirty,” he grins while his nose brushes my rosy cheek, and then he's kissing me. “I love it,” he professes with amusement, again, coaxing his tone.

Just as I begin undoing his belt, he flips me over on my stomach like before. Then, when I'm lying flat underneath him, he grabs my hips, to lift them towards his crotch as he kneels above. “I better see a pink thong,” he jokes as he strips me bare. He groans in satisfaction as I’m left in just my underwear for his viewing. “Unreal,” Logan practically purrs.

I wiggle my ass playfully, and he growls and smacks it harder than he did in his classroom. I squeal into my pillow, briskly going quiet when I hear his belt being ripped from the loops of his denim. Leaving my underwear in place, he runs his digits over the lace, making me whine, "Logan."

With his name on my tongue, it shortly turns into a cry as the lace covering my clit gets moved to the side, and two meaty fingers dive into me. "Shit, princess," he rasps. "How am I gonna fit?" He asks rhetorically, and I choke a sob, as he wastes no time building up an energetic pace, with his fingers.

He swiftly tears an orgasm from my trembling body, still holding my hips up with one hand. When his fingers leave, I hear his mouth clean them, and I swing my head to face him hastily, but he shoves my head back into my pillow. "So eager," he more or less snickers.

"Very," my smothered voice emits, barely audible.

I nearly shriek when his tip swipes my wet slit. Logan, without notice, suddenly pushes himself inside me, with an agonizing slowness, but I quietly persist. "Atta girl, that's it," he lazily groans out encouragements. My hands pathetically slide onto his thighs, unsure if I'm urging him for more, or begging for discretion.

At once, he shoves himself in all the way, and I let out an extensive sigh. His palm, which was just holding down my head, joins his other hand on my abandoned hip. He lets out various curses, along with my name, and begins to move, in and out. Soon enough, he's pounding into me at a savage rate, completely untamed. As well, it seems purposeful, how he simultaneously bends down to growl and moan in my ear, still thrusting.

He stirs another orgasm, still notably, not experiencing his own. "You look real pretty like this princess," he begins to ramble. "Gonna do this every fucking day." The rest of what he says gets lost in translation, as I grow overwhelmed and overstimulated.

Thoughtlessly, I try to crawl away while he still has my lower half hoisted up. Once Logan realizes what I'm up to, my pitiful effort has him laughing. "Where ya going?"

"Lo, it's too much-"

"Lo? Call me that again, it's cute," he hums.

"No more," I whimper, ignoring him.

"Just one more baby," Logan coos, while somehow increasing his pace, making me cum instantly, squirting a little. His moan rumbles in his chest, and he doesn't stop hammering into me. I grip my headboard, and one of his arms stretches alongside mine, to do the same.

When he cums, his grip snaps the wood, breaking a part of the headboard, making me shout in between sobs. He seems to not notice the damage, too busy finishing on my backside.

After a long minute, he slumps his large frame beside me. One of his arms stays drifting across my skin as his eyes intently coast over my features. "Maybe consider skipping my class more often," Logan expresses as his lips slightly tip upward. He presses his lips onto my shoulder. I smile, giggling, "Why?"

"Cause it doesn’t matter where I fuck you, there's nowhere I won't get hard looking at that pretty face," he smiles dreamily, "And you're impractical wardrobe.”

I giggle, "You truly have a way with words," I pause and smirk, "Mr. Howlett."

He rises onto his elbow with a devilish grin, "Now you're really asking for it princess."

Part two

[starryjake]

truth or dare | s.j

in which your best friend, jake, finds out you want him and makes your fantasy come true.

pairing: jake x fem!reader

includes: f receiving oral sex, munch jake obviously, you touch his dick over the pants lol, stripping (lmk if i missed anything).

it was an accident, jake swore. not only was it an accident but it was partly your fault for leaving your laptop wide open for anyone to see.

you were in the bathroom and your laptop was pinging and pinging and pinging nonstop with text messages. jake was laying on your bed, his eyes glued to the tv, but he was beginning to lose focus from how often your computer was pinging.

finally, he couldn’t stand the sound anymore and grabbed your laptop from the edge of your bed. all he was going to do was turn it off and be done with it, but on the screen, he something that caught his eye.

your text messages were open and he saw his name so he just had to look, to know why you were talking about him with your friend.

his eyes widened when he saw why he was mentioned in your texts.

messages coming from you that started with fairly tame things like: “jake looks so good today,” “jake’s cologne is making me go crazy.”

but the more he scrolled, the more texts he found that were just purely vulgar, absolute filth like: “NEED him to eat me out till im crying,” and “bet he moans so pretty,” and even, “need his dick all the way down my throat asap.”

jake almost thought he was being pranked. he simply could not wrap his around the fact that you—his best friend of nearly five years—wanted him.

quite honestly, jake kind of thought that the two of you strictly had a sibling-like-friendship. you always teased him and fought with him like he was an older brother, and he always protected you and teased you back like you were his little sister.

but you wanted him. if those texts were anything to go off of, then you certainly did not see him as a brother.

suddenly, the bathroom door opened. jake practically threw your laptop back to the end of the bed and laid back against your pillows like he wasn’t doing anything.

you walked into the room and sat down next to him with a sigh.

“alright, did you pick a movie?” you asked.

jake wasn’t paying attention to a word you said. all he could focus on was how far you were sitting from him on your bed. how was he ever supposed to find out you liked him if you wouldn’t even go near him?

“jake,” you said, pushing his arm to get his attention.

“huh?” he said. “no, i haven’t picked yet.”

“jeez, what have you even been doing in here the whole time?” you wondered, taking the remote from him to choose a movie yourself.

you would definitely not want to know what he was doing just minutes before you came in the room.

-

jake didn’t focus during the movie. he couldn’t no matter how hard he tried.

how could he watch a movie when you were right there next to him, probably thinking about him and all the dirty things you wanted to do with him.

it was driving jake crazy. this new piece of information, this secret you’ve been carrying for god knows how long, jake had it now and did not know what to do with it.

“this movie is kinda boring,” he finally spoke.

“seriously? it’s nominated for like four oscar’s,” you responded.

“let’s do something else,” jake suggested.

huffing, you sat up slightly and turned off the movie. you then looked over at jake.

“what do you wanna do?” you asked.

jake shifted his body to face you instead of the tv. you tried to calm your thoughts, your thoughts that were far from pg, but he looked amazing. his black hair was slightly more grown out that normal and messy against your pillow. he was in a sweatshirt and sweatpants which is how you liked him best, in comfy clothes.

“we could play a game or something,” he suggested.

“what game?” you wondered.

“i don’t know,” he shrugged. “like, truth or dare or something.”

you snorted. “really?”

“c’mon,” he pouted.

by just looking at his face and that sweet little pout he gave, a flip practically switched in you and suddenly you would do just about anything he asked.

“okay,” you gave in. “truth or dare?”

jake pondered for a moment. he wanted to steer the game in a direction that would get you to admit your feelings for him. he needed to hear it from your mouth because he was still having a hard time believing those text messages.

“truth,” jake replied.

“okay,” you thought for a second. “if you had to hook up with one of your guy friends, who would you pick?”

“god, you’re the worst at asking questions,” jake groaned. “but sunghoon, obviously.”

“figured,” you replied. “your turn.”

“truth or dare?” he asked you.

considering you were comfy where you were laying in your bed, you didn’t want to pick dare in case he dared you to do something that required getting up.

“truth,” you said.

“if you had to hook up with one of the guys, who would you pick?” he asked.

you pondered. obviously you knew who you would choose but you couldn’t tell him that.

“i don’t know,” you lied. “probably heeseung.”

“yeah right,” jake scoffed.

“what?” you frowned. “he’s hot.”

jake could feel himself getting frustrated.

“your turn,” he said.

“truth or dare?”

“dare,” he answered.

“i dare you to show me the last picture in your camera roll,” you said.

you didn’t think much of it, but out of all the dares you could’ve given him, jake would’ve chosen anything else. he knew what the last picture in his camera roll was.

“actually, i pick truth,” he said.

“you can’t do that!” you exclaimed. “now you really have to show me.”

“i don’t think you wanna see it,” he tried to warn.

“what, is it a dick pic or something?” you joked. you joked. but then you saw jake’s face and his lack of words and knew that it really was a picture of his dick. “what the fuck, jake?”

“it’s not a full one,” he reasoned. “it’s just like…my bulge in a pair of sweatpants.”

yeah, you wanted to see it really bad. but you didn’t want him to know that. you didn’t need him to know that you were already getting wet at the mere thought of seeing that kind of picture of your best friend.

“well…” you trailed off, not knowing what to say. “a dare is a dare.”

jake tried not to smirk. he knew it, knew you wanted to see it.

he pulled out his phone and opened the picture. it was a mirror picture. he was shirtless in nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips, not even wearing underwear underneath. his outline was very clear since he was hard when he took the picture.

slightly nervous, jake handed you his phone. you took it, looking at the picture. it was even better than you imagined.

he didn’t miss the way you gulped and the way you instinctively zoomed in on the picture to get an even better look.

but you didn’t say anything. you didn’t tell him he looked good or anything. you just nodded and handed him his phone back.

“ok, your turn,” you said.

“what?” jake frowned. “you don’t have anything to say?”

“why would i have anything to say?” you wondered.

“because i just showed you a picture of…well, that,” he said. “you have nothing to say about it?”

“no,” you laughed. “gross.”

you were being so hard to get, it was actually driving him crazy. he knew you wanted him so why were you being so difficult about it?

“fine,” he scoffed. “truth or dare?”

“dare,” you said, hoping he’ll take it easy on you and not make you get up.

“take off your shirt.”

you immediately gave him a glare.

“dude, what?” you said.

“a dare is a dare,” he replied, repeating your words from a few minutes ago.

“why would i take off my shirt?” you asked.

“because i’m telling you to,” he responded, his eyes darkening.

the way he said it suddenly made you really want to take it off, wanting to obey any command he gave you.

you sat up a bit and started pulling your sweater over your head. all you had on underneath was a thin, light pink bra. your nipples were visibly hard beneath it and jake was already twitching in his pants at the sight.

once your shirt was off, you looked at him expectantly. his eyes flickered down to your chest and back up to your face.

he hummed in satisfaction.

“cute,” he said quietly.

it wasn’t much but the word went straight to your face, turning your cheeks red. oddly, you didn’t feel like covering yourself up. in fact, you would show more of yourself if you knew jake was going to compliment you.

“okay,” you whispered. “truth or dare.”

“dare,” he picked again.

“i dare you the same thing,” you said.

he was hoping you would.

smirking, he pulled his own shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor.

now, you were really starting to get nervous. you had no idea what was going on but you and jake were shirtless in your bed. you liked the feeling though, and you wanted more.

you stared at his bare chest and abdomen, the slight trace of abs making you squeeze your thighs together.

“like what you see?” he chuckled at you checking him out shamelessly. “wanna feel?”

“shut up,” you muttered, turning your head that other way.

“no, really,” jake said. “feel it.”

he suddenly grabbed your hand and placed it against his warm naked abdomen. he guided your hand up and down his chest so you could feel every part, every indent of his body.

he could tell he was finally getting to you. you were submitting to him, losing your uninterested demeanor and he was damn glad about it. he needed to uncover the you that wanted him desperately.

“mmm,” he hummed, basically moaning just from your hand rubbing his body.

he was bold when he very gently and slowly dragged your hand down even further until it was brushing over his waistband and to the front of his sweatpants, right where his growing cock was.

you looked up at his face in shock, but his eyes were closed. he was biting his bottom lip, fully engrossed in this and the feeling of your hand pressed flat on his covered cock.

he kept your hand there, not even making you move it or grip his erection, but just having you feel it. it was entirely hard and just having your hand on it, you could feel it pulsate.

weakly, you began to wrap your fingers around the outline, but he squeezed your wrist and pulled your hand off of him before you could.

his eyes opened and when you looked at each other, he just smirked.

“truth or dare?”

he asked it so calm and casually like your hand wasn’t just on his dick. you didn’t even quite know what to say, unsure how you were supposed to go about playing the game after that.

“uh, t-truth?” you sputtered out, purely confused about what was going on.

“how long have you wanted to do that?” he asked.

your heart seemed to stop beating for a moment.

“what?” you asked.

“how long have you wanted to touch my cock?” he wondered. “how long have you wanted me?”

“who said i want you?” you ask, eyebrows furrowing.

obviously you did want him, but you didn’t know how he knew that.

“i saw the texts,” he told you. he could still tell you were confused so he added, “the texts with you and your friend, talking about how badly you wanted me. god, the things you were saying were just filthy, y/n. i had no idea you felt that way.”

your heart sunk. suddenly, you didn’t want to do any of this anymore. you were utterly humiliated that jake found out you liked him and even more so by how he found out.

“jake, i-i—” you sputtered. “please. i don’t—”

you couldn’t figure out what to say.

“so?” he said. “how long?”

you bowed your head in shame.

“a long time,” you mumbled. “‘m sorry.”

jake tilted your head back up by your chin, smiling softly at your blushing face. you were so cute when you were embarrassed, he was almost doing all this on purpose.

“why are you sorry?” he asked. “i never said i didn’t feel the same, did i?”

this could not be good for your heart. all this slowing of your heart race only for it to pick back up again so quickly. but now you were filled with hope and excitement.

“really?” you asked eagerly, pathetically almost.

“c’mon, let’s keep playing,” he said.

“truth or dare,” you said.

“truth,” he replied.

“what did you think when you saw those texts?” you wondered sheepishly.

he chuckled a bit.

“i guess i was thinking about how i didn’t realize my best friend was so horny for me,” he said, his voice deep and sexy. you squirmed, your body unbearably hot. “now, truth or dare?”

you were nervous to pick dare to see what he would make you do next, but more than nervous, you were excited. so, you did it.

“dare.”

jake knew what he was going to dare you was bold, but he was hard as a rock in his pants and needed you now.

“i dare you to let me eat you out.”

he expected some kind of shock and disgust from you, but that was not the response you gave him.

ever since you’ve known him, you’ve wanted him between your thighs. so now that he was actually offering, why would you reject that?

“okay,” you whispered, still nervous despite wanting it.

he watched in surprise as you lifted your hips up and pulled both your pants and underwear down at once. you looked over at him, waiting for him to follow through with your dare.

“fuck,” he muttered, still in shock that you were suddenly naked right next to him. “didn’t know you wanted me that bad.”

you couldn’t argue. you did want him that bad.

he got up and positioned himself between your legs, face to face with your pussy. he held your thighs while he stared at it, in awe that it was really right there in front of him, his to devour.

“it’s so pretty,” he said, leaning in to place a kiss on your clit. “never knew my best friend had such a pretty little pussy.”

his words sent heat all over your body. you were embarrassed but more than that, you were just so unbelievably turned on. jake looked so good between your legs and you knew he’d look even better once he was actually eating you out.

“please,” you urged, jutting your hips up impatiently.

jake finally licked a stripe up your slit, starting from the bottom all the way up to the top. he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked on the sensitive bundle of nerves, moaning at the taste in his mouth.

“fuckkk,” you moaned out, head falling back against your pillows.

he alternated between sucking and licking your clit, using the tip of his tongue to rub it in little circles and watching the way it moved up and down and to the side. he was eventually just making out with it, eyes closed in concentration and pleasure.

after a moment, he pulled back, a string of saliva keeping his lips attached to your glistening pearl. he then leaned back in and starting licking up and down your pussy in firm, fluid strokes, gathering all of your arousal on his tongue and swallowing it.

you dug your fingers into his hair, tugging on the thick strands which only fueled jake even more. he moaned against your cunt, eyes rolling slightly from getting his hair played with and pulled.

“you’re so fucking hot,” he said, his breath warm on your pussy. “such a good pussy too. fuck, i want it all over my face.”

he dived back in, pushing his face into your pussy as much as he could. his nose rubbed against your puffy clit as his tongue delved inside your hole. he pushed it in as deep as it could possibly go, feeling your warm plushy walls around him.

“fuck, jake!” you yelled.

he sucked on your folds and back on your clit, suddenly intoxicated by the delicious taste of your pussy. it was just so hot, so sweet and tight and perfect. he truly could not get enough and genuinely wanted to drink your arousal.

“oh my god,” he moaned. “you have the sweetest pussy i’ve ever tasted, baby. fuck, it’s so good.”

your legs shook on either side of his head. you were feeling weaker and weaker by the second, his tongue moving like lightning and filling you with sparks.

he flicked the tip of his tongue up and down your slit, tilting his head to the side and resting it on your quivering thigh. the wet sound of his tongue flicking up and down your folds was driving you to the edge.

you couldn’t even warm him that it was about to happen. it just happened.

“mmm, i’m cumming,” you slurred, so drunk on the feeling that you could hardly speak.

you gripped his hair extra tight, pushing your hips up into his face. he ate your perfect cunt and drank every last droplet of your arousal that dripped out of you.

you were dizzy and moaning loudly and carelessly as you grinded your cunt against his face, riding out your high. your pussy was so wet, drenched in your own cum and jake’s saliva.

when you were finally finished, jake sat up and collapsed next to you, his lips, nose, and chin all glistening in your arousal.

you turned your head to face him, your cheeks red. the shock of what you two had just done was kicking in.

you weren’t sure what you two were supposed to do now and where to go from there. you were best friends and best friends weren’t supposed to do what you’d just done.

“wanna finish that movie?” jake asked casually, as though he wasn’t just tongue deep in your cunt.

“sure,” you agreed, as though you weren’t just cumming all over his face.

he wrapped his arm around you and played the movie again, the two of you laying there without acknowledging what happened.

-

:3 teehee munch jake :3 teehee best friend jake

thanks for reading!

[finelinefae]

safety [ceo!h x shy!reader]

synopsis: harry is always there to help bambi, always.

word count: 5.4k

contains: ceo!harry x assitant!y/n, deer!reader vibes, fluff, age gap (9 years), harry meets the family, crybaby reader lowkey

a/n: apologies for this taking so long. I've moved into university and switched courses within three weeks so I've had to do a lot of adjusting! But I hope you're doing well, thank you so so so much for all the love on the first part of bambi and being so patient with this part <333

this is part 2 of bambi, read part 1 here

. . .

Y/N sighed as she stepped into the living room, her heart sinking at the sight of her mother passed out on the couch. It was Friday night, and her mom was still in her work uniform, one shoe barely hanging from her foot while the other lay haphazardly across the room. A wave of frustration and sadness hit her hard. She had begged her mom to take the day off to watch the boys so she could go on her date with Harry tonight—the date she’d been looking forward to all week.

This was supposed to be their third date, just before she started working with him at Pleasing this weekend. Their last date had been simple—strolling hand in hand by the river, talking about everything and nothing. But tonight was different. Harry had told her to dress up; he had something important to ask her and was taking her somewhere special. Y/N had been buzzing with excitement ever since.

Glancing at her phone, she felt the sting of tears. Halfway through her makeup, she now realized it didn’t matter—she’d have to cancel. With her mother out cold and no babysitter available at such short notice, the responsibility fell on her. And it was ruining everything.

She opened Harry’s contact on her phone, staring at the little pink heart next to his name. Her thumb hovered over the call button as doubt crept in. What if he never wanted to see her again after this? Cancelling last minute was embarrassing, and she dreaded how angry or disappointed Harry might be.

Her thumb pressed down, the ringing growing louder with each second. Anxiety gnawed at her as she picked at the skin around her nails.

Suddenly, the call connected, and Harry’s voice, smooth and soothing like a lullaby, poured through the speaker. “Bambi? Was jus’ about to pick y’ up. You missin’ me already?”

Her lip trembled, and a tear slid down her cheek as she sniffled. “Harry…” Her voice cracked.

“Hey, what’s wrong, love?” Concern filled his voice instantly, and the warmth of it made her chest tighten.

“I-I can’t go on our date tonight,” she confessed, her voice shaky.

“What d’you mean? Don’t be silly, is something wrong?” His slight panic was clear, making her feel even worse.

“No, it’s not like that. It’s just… my mom came home late, and she’s, um, not able to watch the boys, so I have to stay and babysit. I’m really sorry, Harry. I wanted to go tonight, I swear. I understand if you’re mad or—if you never want to see me again—”

“Woah, woah, Bambi, baby, stop panickin’. I don’t hate you, not at all. It’s closer to the opposite, so calm down, yeah? ‘M not goin’ anywhere.”

“Okay,” she whispered, her voice still thick with emotion. “Y’promise?”

“Five pinkie swears, baby,” he chuckled softly, making her giggle through the tears. “It’s alright. These things happen. But are you okay? Need me to grab you anything? Have y’eaten today?”

His kindness made her heart swell. “N-No, but we’ve got stuff in the freezer I can heat up. Maybe we can reschedule?”

“Bambi, I’m already on my way to your house.”

Her breath hitched. “What? But, Harry, I can’t—”

“You think I’d let a little change of plans stop me from seein’ you? Been needin’ to see m’Bambi all day. How ‘bout this: you help your mum, and I’ll come by and make dinner for all of you. Sound good?”

Her heart skipped a beat. Was he real? Was he really this thoughtful, this willing to come over despite everything?

“Harry, you don’t have to—”

“I want to. Now, go get in some comfy pjs, and I’ll stop by the store to grab snacks. Maybe we can watch a movie later. Does that sound good?”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice lighter now. “That sounds perfect.”

“Alright, I’ll be over in thirty minutes. Take a deep breath for me, Bambi.”

Immediate relief washed over her at the idea of having an extra pair of hands to help her with something that she’d normally be left alone to and better yet it was Harry who was coming to help her. So, she did exactly that - breathe. 

. . . 

Y/N was pushing clothes into the washing machine when she heard the doorbell ring. Her heart skipped a beat or possibly maybe two when she heard it. She forced the door shut on the machine and walked to the front door. She frowned the closer she got when she could already hear Harry’s voice but that was soon followed by the voice of her younger brother. 

“I know jujitsu, you know,” Archie announced, his small five-foot frame blocking the doorway.

“You take classes?” Harry asked, bemused.

“No, I learned it on Roblox,” Archie replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh, I don’t think I’ve heard of that one before. You’ll have to show me sometime,” Harry said with a grin.

Archie snorted. “You could just be saying that to get into our house and rob us.”

Y/N’s face heated with embarrassment as she approached the door, ushering Archie out of the way. Harry’s eyes lit up as soon as he saw her. “Y/N, this pizza delivery guy is trying to break into our house,” Archie said. Y/N looked to see Harry holding two pizza boxes and a plastic bag.

“Archie,” Y/N gasped, “this is not a pizza delivery man. This is Harry.”

Harry smiled, clearly trying not to laugh, and offered Archie a small wave. It did nothing to ease the suspicious look on Archie’s face. “Who’s Harry?”

Y/N froze, unsure of how to answer. Harry was both her boss and the man she was dating, but she couldn’t exactly explain that to her little brother. “He’s... my special friend.”

Archie looked between them for a moment, then shrugged and wandered off. Y/N’s shoulders sagged with relief as she turned to face Harry, who was still grinning at her. He looked incredibly handsome in his matching brown suit, his curly hair tousled in that familiar way. Her heart sank a little, knowing he had dressed up for their date.

“H-Harry, I’m really sorry—” she began, but before she could finish, Harry set the pizza boxes down and pulled her into a tight embrace. She breathed in the fruity scent of his cologne as he gently rubbed circles on her back.

“Bambi,” he murmured with a soft sigh, “I missed you.”

She smiled against his chest. “You just saw me the other day, and we FaceTimed last night.”

Harry pulled back slightly, cupping her cheeks with his large hands. “Kiss?”

Her cheeks flushed, as they always did when he asked for a kiss. She stood on her toes, meeting his lips, savouring the softness of his touch and the faint taste of peppermint from his lip balm. 

“Have you eaten yet?” he murmured against her lips. “I brought pizza.”

“You didn’t have to,” Y/N sighed softly. “I was just going to throw something in the oven.”

“Hey, Bambi.” She looked up, meeting his gaze already fixed on her. “I wanted to. I’m here to help, okay? Now, why don’t we eat this before it gets cold? You grab some plates, and I’ll set the table.”

“O-Oh, okay.” She nodded, a bit flustered. “Just so you know, my brothers can be… intense.”

Harry smiled, his expression easygoing. “It’s okay, I’ve got a niece. I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

Y/N led him into the living room where her little brothers were scattered. Archie sat in the corner, hunched over the computer, likely playing the game he had mentioned to Harry earlier.

“Who are you?” a small voice piped up. Harry glanced down to see a boy around six or seven, looking at him curiously.

“That’s Y/N’s special friend,” Archie chimed in without even turning around from his game.

“Weren’t you the guy making out with my sister the other night?” The eldest of the three boys, who looked about fourteen, spoke up from where he was watching TV. Despite his age, there was a maturity in his tone that caught Harry off guard.

Harry chuckled, feeling Y/N stiffen beside him. He gave the teenager a polite smile. “Well, I guess that’s one way to put it.”

“Sammy go and get the plates from the kitchen, Harry bought us pizza.” Sammy huffed, pausing the tv and doing exactly as his sister said. 

“Jack, can you grab an extra chair?” Y/N asked the youngest boy, her voice gentle but firm. Harry watched as the boys immediately followed their eldest sister’s instructions without question. A small pang tugged at his chest—part of him felt for her, having to shoulder the responsibility of looking after three growing boys. He didn’t know every detail of her family life, but seeing the way they interacted was enough to tell him they’d had to adapt quickly.

They all gathered around the table, two extra-large pizzas laid out in front of them. Harry chuckled at the sight of the boys eyeing the food like it was a rare treasure.

“Calm down,” he murmured with a grin, leaning close to Y/N. “Y’ so stiff, Bambi.”

Y/N blushed, fidgeting slightly. “Sorry, I just get so—”

“So?” Harry interrupted, smirking as he tried to coax her into a fluster. “So what, baby?”

“So nervous,” Y/N huffed, her cheeks burning as she realized he was toying with her.

A throat cleared from across the table, and Y/N suddenly felt three pairs of eyes locked onto them. Jack and Archie looked disgusted by the couple’s banter, while the eldest boy, Sammy, was glaring at Harry with an intensity that made Harry suppress a laugh.

“How old are you?” Sammy asked bluntly, his gaze sharp and protective.

Y/N choked on her drink. “Sammy! You can’t just ask people that—it’s rude!”

Harry chuckled, raising a hand to calm her. “No, it’s alright,” he said, amused. “I’m thirty.”

“Whoa, you’re old!” Archie blurted out, eyes wide with surprise.

“Archie!” Y/N gasped, mortified, while Jack burst out laughing.

“I guess it is kind of old,” Harry shrugged playfully, glancing at Y/N with a wink.

“Are you rich?” Sammy pressed, undeterred.

Y/N’s face flushed even more, praying the ground would open up and swallow her whole.

“I do well,” Harry replied, keeping his tone light. “I own a fashion company.”

“That means he’s rich,” Archie chimed in, eyes lighting up. “Do you have a sports car?”

Harry leaned forward, whispering conspiratorially, “I own three.”

Archie gasped, his face a picture of awe. “No wonder you can afford two extra-large pizzas!”

“If you think that’s cool, wait till you hear what else I brought,” Harry teased.

“Candy?” Archie’s eyes grew even wider, filled with excitement.

“Better.”

“Ice cream?”

Harry nodded. “Ice cream, candy, whipped cream, chocolate sprinkles... you name it.”

Archie looked as though he might pass out from pure joy. Sweets after dinner weren’t a common occurrence in their house unless it was a special occasion.

Harry’s smile softened as his eyes flicked to Sammy, who was still watching him with guarded suspicion. “What do you want from my sister?” Sammy finally asked, his tone sharp.

Y/N cringed, wishing she could disappear like Jack, who was contentedly munching on pizza, completely oblivious to the tension. Her cheeks were already burning before she’d even taken a bite.

Harry’s hand found its way to her knee under the table, a silent reassurance that he knew exactly how she was feeling without her having to say a word.

“It’s still early,” Harry said honestly, his gaze meeting Sammy’s without faltering. “But I really, really like your sister.”

Sammy seemed to relax at that, but not without a final warning. “You’re not allowed to like her as much as we do.”

Y/N’s heart squeezed at the words. Despite the challenges, the boys were her world, her best friends.

Harry smiled warmly, his voice sincere. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

. . .

"Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!" Archie came barreling into the kitchen, his face smeared with chocolate and whipped cream from the ice cream sundaes they’d made earlier. Y/N was bent over the washing machine, pulling out clothes to hang on the makeshift line by the window.

"Harry says he's gonna take us to the indoor waterpark in the city for my birthday! Isn't that awesome? And he beat Sammy's score on the new game he bought us!"

Y/N glanced up, smiling softly at Archie's excitement. The boys had been glued to the computer for hours after Harry surprised them with a game they’d been begging for. The sound of their wild laughter had echoed through the house all afternoon.

Footsteps approached the kitchen, and she looked up to see Harry standing in the doorway, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Harry, I was just telling Y/N about the waterpark you’re taking us to," Archie said eagerly.

Harry’s eyes flicked to Y/N. "Ah, yes," he said, smiling at her. "I heard there’s a certain someone’s birthday coming up soon."

Archie's birthday was still a month away, and Y/N had only planned a simple celebration—movies, takeout, and cake. As Archie bolted from the kitchen, beaming about the waterpark, Y/N’s smile faded slightly.

Harry noticed the shift immediately. "What’s wrong?" he asked, stepping closer and reaching for her hand. "Did I mess something up?"

"N-no," Y/N replied quickly, shaking her head. "You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just... Archie's birthday isn’t for another month."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "So?"

Y/N hesitated, her words stumbling over themselves. "I just don’t want to make promises, you know, in case… I mean, what if…" She trailed off, struggling to find a way to express the growing anxiety in her chest. She adored Harry, more than she could articulate, but a part of her couldn’t help worrying about the future—the uncertainties that came with letting someone new into their lives.

"Bambi," Harry’s voice was soft as he cupped her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. "Where’d you go?"

She blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"

His lips quirked into a gentle smile. "Y’ do this thing where you space out, like your mind drifts off somewhere else ‘cause you're thinkin’ too much."

"I do that?" she asked, surprised.

"Mhm," he murmured, his thumb tracing the little furrow in her brow, the touch sending warmth through her. "I like you an awful lot, Bambi. I plan on stickin' around for a long time."

"You do?" Her voice was small, almost disbelieving.

"Yes, I do. And I really like your brothers—they’re a credit to you."

Y/N opened her mouth to deflect, as usual. "Oh, you mean my mom—"

"No," Harry interrupted gently, shaking his head. "I mean you."

Her lips parted in surprise, her eyes misting over. She hadn’t expected that. She hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear those words. Without thinking, she leaned up and pressed her lips to his, a kiss filled with the gratitude she couldn't quite express in words.

She was about to pull away, but Harry held her close, his hands gripping her hips as he deepened the kiss. His soft, warm lips made her head spin, and for a brief moment, the world around them disappeared.

That is, until Sammy’s voice rang out from the hallway. "I’m coming in, so you better not be swapping saliva in there!"

Harry broke the kiss with a chuckle, glancing over his shoulder. "Alright, alright, we’re behaving," he teased, winking at Y/N before moving to the sink. "Let me help you," he offered, turning on the faucet to start washing the dishes from dinner.

Y/N watched him for a moment, her heart swelling with warmth. The words he’d spoken earlier echoed in her mind—words that had already begun to feel familiar, but only when they came from him.

. . .

Y/N woke up the following morning, not from the alarm she’d set for 6 a.m., but from the rapid thumping of her heart. Anxiety rippled through her, making her stomach twist with nerves. Today was her first day working at Pleasing, her first day officially under Harry’s employment. She was excited, of course, but that didn’t stop the butterflies in her belly from multiplying.

She stared up at the ceiling for a few moments, taking slow breaths to calm herself. Her phone buzzed softly on the nightstand, and she reached over, her fingers trembling slightly as she opened the message.

Harry: Morning, Bambi 🌞 There’s a car on its way to pick you up. No need to stress, yeah? I’ll be waiting for you at the office. You’re gonna be amazing x

A small smile crept onto her face despite the nerves. Harry’s words were like a warm hug on a cold morning, making her feel just a little bit braver. She couldn’t help but appreciate how he seemed to know exactly what she needed to hear, right when she needed to hear it.

She quickly typed a reply, her fingers still shaky.

Y/N: Thank you. I’m a little nervous but I’ll do my best. See you soon 💕

Y/N got out of bed and went through her morning routine, trying to focus on each task to stop her mind from spiraling into all the things that could go wrong today. She picked out an outfit she hoped said “professional but approachable,” taking extra care to smooth out any creases in her clothes. When she was finally dressed, she checked the time—6:45 a.m.—the car Harry sent should be arriving any minute.

She stepped outside, the cool morning air doing little to ease her racing thoughts. Y/N wrapped her arms around herself, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. The street was quiet at this hour, and she couldn’t help but feel like the only person awake in the world.

Just then, a sleek black car pulled up in front of her, the driver rolling down the window with a friendly nod. "Y/N?" he asked, and she nodded in response.

“That’s me,” she said, her voice a little shaky. She climbed into the backseat, clutching her bag on her lap as the driver started the journey to the office. She stared out the window, watching the familiar streets blur by, and tried to give herself a little pep talk.

You can do this. You’re ready. Harry believes in you, so believe in yourself, too.

Her phone buzzed in her hand again, another message from Harry.

Harry: Also going on a coffee run, do you want anything? x

Bambi: Isn’t that my job today? x

Harry: It’s my job to take care of you everyday

Y/N didn’t realize how wide her smile had grown until she caught her reflection in the glassy screen of her phone. A soft blush crept onto her cheeks as she tried to compose herself, glancing out the window to distract from the giddy feeling bubbling inside her. She watched as the quiet suburbs melted into the bustle of the big city, her heart thudding against her ribcage. 

Slowly, the car pulled up outside Pleasing. The building was elegant, with an arched doorway and a clean awning that had the brand's name in bold letters. Through the large glass doors, Y/N could see a glimpse of the bright, stylish interior. Her heart pounded as the car came to a stop, her mouth opening with a desperate plea to leave, to turn back and retreat home where she could hide away—but then she saw Harry, and her words fell away for an entirely different reason.

She’d seen Harry in a suit before, but seeing him in full CEO mode was something else. He wore a flawless black-and-white suit, cufflinks gleaming at his wrists. His eyes were stern, his entire demeanor unshakeable—until he looked her way, and his whole form softened.

“You’re here,” His voice was warm and inviting. She wanted to leap into him and hide herself within him but she wanted to be professional.

She stood in front of him, not wanting to get any closer to her new boss, “Good morning, Mr Styles.”

The corner of Harry’s lips quirked, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Good morning,” he replied, savoring her formality. He took a step closer, his gaze gentle yet focused. “Ready for today?”

“Y-yes,” She said but it wasn’t all that convincing.

Harry grabbed her hand, “You’ll be just fine Bambi.” He murmured the nickname just for her to hear. 

The warmth of his hand around hers steadied her, but it also set her pulse racing. His fingers intertwined with hers, and he kept their joined hands subtly hidden between them as they walked through the grand entrance and into the lobby. Y/N’s nerves started to quiet, replaced by a growing excitement.

As they stepped into the elevator, Harry’s thumb brushed gently over her knuckles. She looked up at him but his eyes were looking ahead. Her eyes fixated on his sharp jawline and smooth, freshly-shaven face; he looked even more polished, clean-cut and distinctly professional since she’d last seen him.

When they reached his office floor, Harry led her down a sleek corridor and into an airy, open workspace with views of the city skyline. The scent of fresh coffee lingered in the air, and a few team members looked up with welcoming smiles.

Just ahead, a woman in her mid-thirties with shoulder-length auburn hair and an easy smile approached them. Her professional but warm demeanor put Y/N at ease almost instantly. Harry released Y/N’s hand as he greeted her.

“Lindsey, this is Y/N,” he said, glancing between them. “She’s starting with us today. I thought you might help her settle in and get familiar with everything.”

Lindsey extended her hand warmly. “Oh is this-”

Harry’s gaze lingered on her with a slight, unreadable intensity, prompting Lindsey to pause mid-sentence. Then, noticing Y/N, she broke into a bright smile.

“Y/N! It’s so nice to meet you.” She laughed lightly, her eyes flicking to Harry with a teasing glint. “I have to admit, I’m a little curious why anyone would sign up to be his assistant—he can be a real pain most days.” She shot him a playful look. “But don’t worry, just don’t enter his office at midday - he can get real hangry.” 

Y/N giggled and Harry’s eyes brightened at the sound, ““Y/N,” he said, his voice warm, “you’re in very good hands.” He turned to Lindsey. “Make sure she gets a proper introduction to everything, but don’t overwhelm her.”

Lindsey chuckled. “I’ll keep it light for today, boss. We’d be here all day getting into your list of demands everyday.”

Harry rolled his eyes, and with a final look at Y/N, said, “I’ll see you later, then.” His words were simple, but the small smile he gave her was anything but. As he walked away, Y/N felt the anticipation return, wanting him to come back and be the one to show her around. She wasn’t the best with meeting new people. She was shy and nervous and fumbled over her words too often but Harry had great faith in her so she would try her best to do good. 

“Alright, let’s get started,” Lindsey said, gesturing to an open desk area near Harry’s office. “First things first—coffee? I’ll show you the best spot, and then we’ll make our way through the to-do list Harry sent this morning.” 

. . .

Y/N liked Lindsey a lot. 

She was funny and gentle. Whenever Y/N made a mistake—like earlier when she accidentally printed everything in pink instead of black and white—Lindsey would correct her kindly, reminding her that mistakes happen. Y/N wasn’t used to this kind of patience; her old boss would snap or hiss at even the smallest error. Here, it felt nice to breathe a little easier.

Lindsey spoke warmly about her two little boys, whom she cared for while her husband was away with the military. She had once been a stay-at-home mom, but over time, the isolation began to weigh on her; she craved more than just the role of mother and wanted to be out in the world, around people. When she applied to Pleasing, she’d explained her situation to Harry during her interview, and he had offered her flexible hours so she could still make it home to her boys each evening.

Whenever Lindsey mentioned the things Harry had done for her and her family, her voice would grow thick with emotion, and she spoke of him with genuine admiration. Y/N found herself thinking of her own circumstances and the way Harry had taken her under his wing, feeling a warmth for him settle in her chest.

“Okay, Harry’s in a meeting, so we need to bring in tea and coffee,” Lindsey said, heading over to a small rolling cart neatly stocked with cups, a teapot, and coffee supplies.

She guided Y/N through the arrangement, showing her how Harry liked his tea prepared. “He’s particular about the temperature—hot but not scalding,” Lindsey explained with a wink. “Don’t worry you’ll get the hang of things.”

Y/N carefully poured the tea, her hands steadying with each instruction Lindsey offered. They finished preparing the drinks, and Y/N took a deep breath, steadying herself as she reached for the cart handle.

“You’ll be fine,” Lindsey reassured her, offering a supportive smile. “Just go in, keep it simple, and make sure everyone has their drinks. You’ll be a natural at this in no time.”

“I’m going in alone?” Y/N’s eyes widened.

“It’s good practice,” Lindsey grins, “Good luck!”

Y/N squared her shoulders and pushed the cart toward the meeting room. The murmurs grew louder as she approached, but her nerves eased slightly upon catching Harry’s eye. His expression softened for a moment before returning to its professional coolness, a small signal just for her.

As she entered, she was met with the sight of a large glass table surrounded by men in sharp suits, all eyes shifting toward her. Taking a breath, she rolled the cart around and placed the cups in front of Harry and the others. Just as she reached for the teapot, a slight tremor ran through her hand, and she felt a sudden rush of panic.

In an instant, she lost her grip. The teapot tipped, sending hot tea spilling across the table and splattering onto a crisp white shirt belonging to one of the men. The room fell silent, and every gaze shifted from her to the angry figure, whose face flushed crimson.

““Watch where you’re going!” he barked, rising from his seat. “Do you even know how to serve properly?”

Y/N’s heart raced, the color draining from her face. Just as she opened her mouth to apologize, a surge of anger rippled through the room.

“Do you think it’s okay to talk to a woman like that?” Harry murmured, his voice laced with malice.

“She stained my shirt! She’s lucky I’m not making her pay for it,” the man continued, and Y/N could see the discomfort on the faces of the other attendees, their expressions telling her they knew he’d crossed a line.

Harry’s eyes darkened, a storm brewing behind them. He reached into his blazer pocket, pulling out a checkbook and a fountain pen. With swift strokes, he began to scribble before turning to Y/N. “Y/N, would you mind delivering this to Mr. Smith?”

Y/N nodded, her hands trembling slightly as she accepted the check, its weight feeling both significant and heavy.

Mr. Smith snatched the check from her hands, glancing down at it with a scowl. Written across the page was Harry’s signature alongside a mere fifty dollars. “Your final check—enough to cover the shirt, I assume? I think I saw the same one in the TK Maxx sale rack.”

“Final?” Mr. Smith asked, incredulous.

“Correct,” Harry replied nonchalantly.

Mr. Smith’s face burned bright red. He huffed, rising from his seat and storming out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The room fell silent. “Meeting adjourned,” Harry announced, and everyone flooded out, eager to escape the awkward tension.

Y/N stood in the corner, barely able to look up. Embarrassment washed over her; she wondered if she could do any job right. Her eyes watered as she bit down on her lip to keep from crying.

Suddenly, two polished shoes came into view, and big hands cupped her cheeks, gently forcing her to meet his gaze. “Are you okay?” Harry asked, concern etched on his face.

She wanted to say yes, to express pride in her efforts and how well she had handled the day, but instead, she wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into his shirt. “I feel like I can’t do anything right,” she admitted, her voice muffled.

Harry sighed, his arms encircling her as he rubbed the back of her head soothingly. “You did nothing wrong.”

“You can’t fire people because of me, Harry.”

“Don’t worry about him. We’ve wanted to get rid of him for ages—just a sexist prick. Turns out you’re a pretty good assistant for giving me an excuse to fire someone on the spot,” he chuckled lightly.

Y/N looked up at him, her heart fluttering as his hand held her cheek, his thumb brushing beneath her eye. “These eyes,” he whispered.

A smile broke through her sadness. “I’m sorry for ruining your meeting.”

“Don’t care, Bambi.” He was so much taller than her, nearly a foot difference, so he had to lean down to brush his nose against hers, their lips ghosting against each other. “You actually made it better.”

“I did?” she whispered, her mind suddenly forgetting the man who had yelled at her.

“Mhm,” he hummed, and then, gently, he pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was soft and lingering, sending a warm flutter through Y/N that chased away the remnants of her earlier embarrassment. She melted into the moment, her worries fading as Harry’s lips brushed against hers. 

“Okay, what the hell happened?” Lindsey barged into the room, causing Y/N to leap away from Harry, her cheeks flushing.

“Wow, Lindsey,” Harry said, rubbing a hand over his mouth, both of them flustered as Lindsey glanced between them. “Try knocking next time, yeah?”

“Since when have I ever needed to knock?” Lindsey shot back, her eyebrows knitting together as she assessed Y/N, whose face was now bright pink.

“Since now,” Harry replied. Clearing his throat, he added, “If you’ll excuse me…” He brushed past her, leaving the tension lingering in the air.

A laugh escaped Y/N’s lips, even as embarrassment tinged her cheeks; it was the first time she’d witnessed him so flustered. Lindsey arched an eyebrow, a teasing smile creeping onto her face. “So, are you two like…?”

“No,” Y/N replied, the denial tumbling out a bit too quickly.

Lindsey shot her a knowing look but chose not to press further. “Might want to let him know about that lipstick stain on his upper lip,” she added, rolling the cart out of the room and leaving Y/N feeling distinctly warm and flustered.

. . .

Harry kissed Y/N with the lights off on her front porch after dropping her home. Y/N melted against him, her fingers tangling in his hair as the kiss deepened. She felt a rush of warmth spread through her, the sweet taste of his breath mixing with the fresh night air. His hands found her waist, pulling her closer, their bodies fitting perfectly together. “Bambi,” He slurred against her lips.”

“Hm?” She hummed, unable to stop herself when she pulled him closer. 

“I was thinking,” He murmured, pulling away but his hands still firmly gripping her waist, “Maybe this weekend y’ could come to my place and stay the night.”

“The night?” She’d never had a sleepover before let alone one at a boys house. 

“Yeah… Would you be okay with that?” 

“Y-Yeah, I think so.”

“Y’ think so?” Harry grinned, “Are y’ sure?”

She smiled, “I’d like that.”

“Well, alright then,” he murmured, leaning down to place one last, soft kiss on her lips. “Goodnight, Bambi.”

“Goodnight, Harry.” Y/N barely suppressed a smile as she watched him walk to his car, a flutter in her chest as he turned back for a final wave.

Before she turned to step into her house, her phone buzzed and a text came through from Harry.

Harry: I think we have to get better at this whole sneaking around thing

Y/N: Tell yourself that, you kissed me first!

Harry: Can’t help it Bambi 

Harry: I’m obsessed with you

. . .

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[peachsukii]

— emergency contact

it’s been two years since you’ve seen your ex-boyfriend, and didn’t plan on changing that anytime soon. a nasty villain fight lands you in the hospital during an overnight patrol and leaves you unable to tell the doctors who to call in your dazed state.

✮ content. late 20s. ex-boyfriend bakugo, hospitalization, sappy confessions & second chances. distance makes the heart grow fonder kind of deal.

『 #reis softie sundays 』

Sharp, shooting pain down your back and a desperate cry from your partner ⎯ that was the only thing you remember from the last…four hours? Time is becoming illusive at this point, blending together with how fast everything unraveled around you.

Were you injured on patrol? Did that villain slip through your fingers and escape? Where was your partner in all this chaos?

“Doctor, she’s waking up,” you hear in the distance, muffled but clear enough to understand. A nurse walks into your blurred vision, a soft smile on her lips. “Hi hon, you’re in the hospital. We’re taking you to your room now, hang tight.”

All you can manage to do is nod in acknowledgement, the world spinning on its axis and making you extremely dizzy. Your eyes fall closed, a hazy sleep welcoming you in seconds.

When you wake next, you're not quite sure how much time has passed. The room sits in darkness, the only sources of light coming from the moon outside the window and the various machines chirping around you. There's a static in your head, as if you're stuck on a radio frequency that hasn't been adjusted to the correct channel. Even with all the noise in your head, a familiar voice can be heard outside in the hallway, one you'd never mistake for anyone else.

"It's late," a nurse says, presumably trying to convince him to go home. "Are you sure you want to stay? We can try her other contacts again in a few hours."

"M'sure. Do I need'ta sign in or whatever?"

"No, that's alright. I'll notate it on her chart and let the front desk know. I'll be back in a bit and we can talk more about treatment."

The door slides open to prove you're not imagining things ⎯ your ex isn't a manifestation of your delirious state. Bakugo's standing in the dim light of the hallway, tip toeing inside and shutting the door as quietly as possible. When his eyes fall upon your hospital bed, he notices that you're awake and sighs. "Been awhile."

You don't have the energy to do this dance with him, to go back and forth with lightheartedness like old times. "Why are you here?"

His lips press into a straight line, jaw clenched tight as he seems to silently ask himself the same question. He makes his way over to the bed, taking a seat at the edge by your feet. "I'm still one of your emergency contacts in your hero file."

Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. There's no way you haven't updated your database profile in two years...right? Bakugo catches onto your confusion and explains before you have a chance to press him further on the matter. "M'the only one who answered."

What time was it, anyways? Your eyes bounce around the room swiftly to find a wall clock. You squint a bit to read it, finally making out the numbers. 4:30...am?

"What did they call you for?" you yawn, rubbing the exhaustion out of your eyes. "I don't even know what happened."

He takes a deep breath as a large hand finds your thigh, resting atop the thin blanket. His touch makes you want to melt into a puddle, memories of your past relationship coming back in waves.

"They didn't tell me much, only that it was life or death. Thankfully, your ass chose life." He shakes his head, a quiet huff escaping him. "Somethin' about a villain's poison quirk. Ya got hit in the spine and it paralyzed you temporarily, an' you fell from someplace high up. Your partner caught ya and the paramedics got to you just in time."

Oh. Well, that explains the pain from earlier.

"But why did you answer their call, Baku⎯" you cut yourself off to correct his name as it leaves your lips. "Katsuki?"

"I'm not heartless, just 'cause we haven't talked in ages doesn't mean I don't care about ya."

You shift in your bed a bit, eyes gravitating toward the window to avoid his gaze. Truth be told, you two ended on decent terms and not maliciously. Wrong place, wrong time...at least, that's what you two chalked it up to. You were both too busy with hero work, too absent from each other's lives to properly be a couple. After a year, you convinced yourself that you were satisfied watching him from afar, catching brief glimpses of his life through interviews and news reports. That was your excuse, a cowardly way to keep him out of reach and prevent you, and him, from getting distracted.

"Hey." Bakugo's fingers squeeze your thigh to recollect your attention, the blanket crumpling under his palm. You're terrified to look at him, knowing full well that in your battered state, you'll crumble like stone if he says anything remotely sweet. Those vermillion eyes of his always had a way of making you weak ⎯ soft. "I was thinkin' on my way over here that I should'a called ya, reached out to keep in touch. M'sorry for not doin' that."

"It's...fine," you stammer out, a shaky hand coming up to wave off his concern. "We don't have to talk about that now."

"I don't wanna only talk to you when you're hurt, or worse..." he trails off, screwing his eyes shut to avoid the dread lingering in his chest. "Look. What m'gettin' at is you scared the shit outta me, and it made me realize that I've got a lot to say after all these years."

Oh boy, you brace yourself for impact, expecting the explosive nature to come pouring out any second. But, it never comes.

Before you could stop him, Bakugo's on his feet and leaning over the bed, arms slung around your shoulders to pull you close. A strange but familiar veil of comfort drapes over you in the moment, pulling on your heartstrings. Your eyes begin to sting when the words he whispers finally reach your ears. "M'done usin' hero work as an excuse to avoid you. I wanna talk this shit out...when you're ready. I'd love to make ya dinner again."

You can't help but let out a breathless laugh, arms finally coming up to return his hug. "Only if you promise to make your special katsudon. I've been craving it for weeks."

He chuckles over your shoulder, squeezing you a bit tighter in response. "Deal."

Who knew that a villain was what you two needed to face your fears, to finally admit that the spark was never smothered into nothingness. And this time, something tells you that you'll both make damn sure it stays ablaze.

happy softie sunday!! I know it's been awhile since I've written one. hope you don't mind some baku-sap :)

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